


An Invincible Summer

by Wenderful52



Series: Two Thrones [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And Winter Came..., Bard has a dog!, Barduil - Freeform, Child Sex-Trafficking RECOVERY, Dale is new, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Esta is a Border Collie, F/M, Festival of Midsummer, Galion is my hero, Grieving, Hilda rocks, Hurt/Comfort, Kingdoms of the North, M/M, Marriage Between Kings, Minor Character Death, PTSD, Past Domestic Violence, Percy's great, Rape Recovery, Tauriel has a cat, Thangon is an English Mastiff, Two Kings, Two Thrones Series, Unrequited Love, What Makes a King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-04-14 04:16:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 56
Words: 364,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wenderful52/pseuds/Wenderful52
Summary: As Dale begins, Bard is working all hours to get things up and running, with the help of his new husband, Thranduil. Their new life in the Castle is busy and happy, under the watchful eye of Hilda, their beloved matriarch.Rhian, daughter of Ben of Dale, mother to Darryn, is a young widow who is still recovering from a childhood full of neglect, and marriage to a husband who broke her in every way possible, but she is learning to let go of the pain, and to be happy.Daeron, Guard and Healer to the Royal Family of Dale, is in love with her – he has been since the first time he met her.  His friends and loved ones are worried for him, but thankfully an offer is presented, which could bring him some solace, and give the woman he loves some time and freedom to continue her journey of self-discovery.  During his own journey, we’ll  discover why he’s so drawn to this beautiful young woman, and take a deeper look into the sorrows of his past.Unfortunately, no one can dictate where a heart wishes to travel, and nothing can guarantee happiness when it does...*This work is part of an the ongoing "Two Thrones" series - you'll need to read the previous installments to understand everything.





	1. Chapter 1

… 

 

 

“In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”

― Albert Camus

 

**City of Dale; Noon, 17th of July, 2942 T.A.**

Bard had taken a rare afternoon off from his duties as King, and spent it wandering around the new City and enjoying the scenery.  Life in Dale had indeed begun, and these weeks since the children returned were a frenzy of activity.  More like a scramble, really.  Much of the time, Bard was flying by the seat of his pants, as he tried to deal with the unavoidable minutiae involved in getting a new Kingdom up and running.

The battlefield that used to be called “The Field of Desolation,” had been re-named “Hope Field” in a very moving ceremony near the graves of those fallen in the Battle.  It was now home to the farmers, who carefully tended to their various new crops, with hope in their hearts and prayers for a good first harvest.

Everyone was still setting up and ironing out the small problems and foibles of their new houses:  Furniture was arranged and rearranged several times over, squeaky doors were oiled, sticky windows were rubbed with beeswax until they opened up and down, easily.  Cooking disasters gave way to good, tasty meals, as many learned to cook over the open flame in the fireplace.  Clotheslines were hung in back yards and quickly filled with clean laundry of every size and shape, to dry in the warm sun.  Folks chatted with their new neighbors through open windows, as they hung curtains and made up the beds.  The brooms (one was allotted to each house) were put to use almost constantly, and colorful braided rugs, woven over the winter, were put down the common rooms.

Every new home in Dale was set up only for the basics, and above that will serve as a means to get the economy of the country up and running as soon as possible.  Each house hold was given an allotment according to their size to finish them according to their taste.

When Bard, accompanied by his guard, Daeron, meandered into the Market, he was greeted with a few friendly waves, and “Good Afternoon, My Lord!” Bard gave them a friendly smile back, but did not want to interrupt them, as they were swamped with orders to fill for the new households.  All the merchants were overworked, but their exhaustion was not something they wanted to complain about.  Everyone was excited to see what new things were available and enjoyed exploring the shops and all the rest of the city. 

The Potter and his three sons kept their new kiln working day and night to make enough pitchers, platters, lamps and pots of every conceivable size and shape.  They were flying off the shelves as fast as he could make them, and many were waiting for their items as patiently as they could. 

The proprietor of the Basket Shop had to be treated at the Healing Hall because he’d worked his fingers bloody to keep up, so he’d hired several workers to get ahead of the orders, while he supervised them with his bandaged hands and thoroughly enjoyed their company.

The fires in the smithies worked all day long, to make pots for cooking, tea kettles, and frying pans.  They also made stove tops and oven doors, so the stonemasons could provide ovens alongside the fireplaces in Dale.

Wonderful smells came from the ovens in the Baker’s shop: loaves of fresh bread of all kinds, and pastries were on display behind a glass window (to keep the children from poking their fingers in pies.)

There was one shop that Bard made a point to visit.  Dale Fabrics was owned and operated by Lynne and Mona, former servants from Laketown who had been victimized by their deranged former employer Iola, and her sister, Ina.  Bard had intervened immediately to free them, and Thranduil helped them learn a trade.   During the winter, the women had fallen in love, and planned to marry soon.

“Lord Bard!  It’s good to see you!” Lynne smiled at him from behind the counter.  “Hi Lieutenant!  Looking after the King, as usual?”

“I am indeed, Miss Lynne.”  Daeron bowed to her.

Bard looked around.  “Can’t keep anything on the shelves, can you?”

“Too right, we can’t, and folks have been frustrated.  You can’t blame them, really.  We’ve been in touch with one of the shops in Dorwinian and bought a bunch of broadcloth from the Woodland Realm.  That should be here tomorrow, but most of that’s already spoken for.”

“Lady Hilda wanted me to stop by and ask after,” he pulled a paper out of his pocket and read aloud, ‘ticking for pillowcases.’  Do you have any of that?”

“We do, My Lord.  Orders for that has finally slowed down.  Plain white or striped?”

“She likes white.  Set aside some, and she’ll send a servant over to pick it up.” 

“How much does she need?”

“Half a bolt should do it,” Bard said. “And I’m instructed to pay up front and include the cost of the black twill she bought last week to be sent to the tailor for leggings.  Hilda said you didn’t send a bill.”

“But My Lord; we cannot charge  _you!_  You don't—“

“Yes, we do.” Bard interrupted, kindly but firmly.  “The Royal Family are customers like every other household, and we _will_ be charged the same rates as everyone else.”  Bard smiled, “Unless, of course, you want to argue with the Lady of the Castle yourself?”

“Very well; if you say so, Lord Bard.  You’re very kind.”

“It’s not kindness, Lynne, it’s _business_.  You’re not to give anything away in here, unless you give it to the poor, and you can truly spare it.”

“Thank you.” The girl smiled filled out the bill, and the money was exchanged.  She was going to say something else, but someone else came into the shop, so she curtsied to the King and went to attend them.

“We’ve been together here almost almost two months, and I still can’t believe it,” Bard stopped in the sunshine and looked up at the city around him.  “Every time I come down here, I’m surprised to find new buildings, and not scorched ruins.”

“I understand the feeling, My Lord.  I feel the same.  I had never seen the state of Dale, until we came here after Smaug was killed.”

“Really?  You didn’t come right after the Dragon came?”

Daeron shook his head.  “No, I did not.  I had returned home about three years before, and,” he sighed, “Lord Thranduil was kind in not requiring me to return, to see the ruins.”

“That was nice of him.” Bard agreed. 

They were slowly making their way to the other end of the Market Square, to the new pub Roderic and his family had opened.  Rod had spent last winter in the Thranduil’s Palace due to his injuries and been given the equipment and supplies to start brewing the dark ale folks around here were partial to, but hadn’t enjoyed since Laketown. 

“Tell me: do you think we’re doing justice to what Girion had here?”  Bard asked his Guard.

“I do.” Daeron looked around at the high buildings in the Square and smiled to see the colorful curtains hanging in the windows in the apartments above the shops.  “Also, the changes you’ve made are good ones, I think.”

“Such as?”  Bard was curious.

“The Healing Hall is in the center of Dale, rather than close to the Castle; it was a wise choice as it makes it more accessible to everyone.  You have also improved the original schools.  I think it is better to have several smaller schools for the smaller children, with a larger, central school for the older ones, plus there is room for growth.” 

“I suppose I’m optimistic, about the population becoming larger.  It’s mostly thanks to Thranduil that Dale looks so much like it used to.”

“It does feel like I am stepping into the past.” Daeron looked up at the bell tower and smiled.  “I have missed hearing the bells.”

“I’m glad we did those right away.  I’ve heard Dale was well-known for its bells, so we thought it was important to put them back up.  Everyone loves them; the Elves especially.”

“They would,” Daeron sighed.  “I am glad to be here.”

Bard put his hand on the guard’s shoulder.  “Let’s hope you have happier memories, this time around, _Mellon nîn.”_

Daeron smiled sadly at him, but before Bard could say anything, they had reached their destination, which was the unfinished mural along one side of the Long Lake Tavern.

“King Thranduil!”  Bard smiled up at his husband, who was up on a scaffold with several brushes and different color paints.  “The mural looks brilliant!”

 _“Gi suilannon, Aran Bard!”_ his Elf called down cheerfully.  “I am happy with the results now.  I tried to match the new colors with the old portions of the wall, but it is impossible, I am afraid.  I had to redo the entire wall.”

“That’s a better idea,” Bard agreed.  “I’d like to preserve the original, but if you can’t make the new blend in well, better to just cover it and be done with it.  Just keep the original design, if you would.”

Thranduil grinned down at him and gave him a wink. “I will do my best, My King.”

“Can’t ask for more than that.” And Bard couldn’t.  His Elf was having fun, and if it took painting the City bright purple to keep that look on his husband’s face, then so be it.  Thranduil was entitled to “play” at his favorite pastime, after so many years of loneliness.

The King of the Woodland Realm had spent nearly a thousand years in depression and despair since his wife died and had only recently found happiness again.  Since his marriage to Bard eight months ago, he’d found joy in being a part of a large, extended family, and he was a devoted and affectionate _Ada_ to Bard’s children, as well as his foster-daughter, Tauriel. 

Thranduil planned to spend the next several decades mostly living in Dale with his family, and none of the Elves in the Woodland Realm begrudged their King this; he had more than earned it.

Roderic, the tavern owner came out to greet them, wiping his hands on his apron.  “Good afternoon, Sire! Can I get you a drink?”

“I’d love one, Rod; one of your lighter lagers, please, along with some lunch – I think we’ll eat outside this time.”

“Of course, My Lord.  What would you like?  We’ve got some nice roast beef, with that spicy mustard you like, and the missus made some rye bread this morning for sandwiches.”

“Sounds great!”  Bard called up.  “Thran, I’ll be around the corner having a lunch.  Do you want me to buy you something?”

“I would; tea for me, please.  Master Rod, do you have any of that dark brown bread left, and the soft cheese I enjoy?”

“I do, My Lord.  Coming right up.” The publican turned to the Guard, “What about you, Daeron?  What can I get you?”

“Just water to drink, please; I am on duty, but,” he looked at Rod hopefully, “Has your wife made those chicken turnovers I am so fond of?”

“Got four left, and they’re all yours.  I like to see a lad with a good appetite, but where do you put it? You’re so thin!”

Daeron laughed.  “I do not have to worry about getting fat; it is one of the perks of being an Elf.”

”Don’t say that too much around the women, lad; they’ll think you’re bragging.”

By the time Thranduil came down and washed up, Rod had brought the food and drinks.  Daeron sat with them, while Ruvyn kept watch.

“Look at you!” Bard laughed at his Elf.  “You’re having a ball!”

Thranduil laughed as he spread cheese on a slice of bread and took a bite.  “I am, _Meleth nîn_.  Dale was once filled with such art, as well as beautiful statues and fountains, and I want to see it again.  If this City is going to be the center of culture, then we have to make it look thus.”

“Who did the original art? Did you know him?”

“I did.  A man named Caradoc did many of them, and the statues were made by several others, but he did not paint the wall I am working on.”

“Oh?  Who did?”

Thranduil took a sip of his tea and grinned.  “I did.”

Bard threw back his head and laughed.  “You bastard! Couldn’t wait to spring that one on me, could you?”

“I like to surprise you.”

“It helps to be full of surprises.”

“And I plan to keep it that way.”  Thranduil took another bite of bread and looked down at Bard’s feet.  “Thangon is not with you.”

“He’s off with the kids.  Percy wanted to go down to Hope Field and get an update on the crops, so they all went on horseback, and took Rhys with them.  Alun’s working as many hours as I am, these days, and he doesn’t want the boy at loose ends.”

“Who else is guarding them?”

Turamarth, and the dogs.  And I told Tauriel to put Tilda in front of her.”

The Elvenking smiled wickedly.  “Tilda is not riding on her own horse?”

“Stop teasing, you.” Bard rolled his eyes. “I know the groom poked extra holes in the straps, so the Little Bean could at least reach her stirrups, but did you have to pick a full-grown horse for her?”

“Once again,” Thranduil raised his eyebrow.  “Tilda _did not_ choose the horse; the horse chose _her,_ and it is an Elven creature.  Blossom would look after her, even without a saddle.  Besides, as you and everyone else knows, what our Tilda really wanted was an Elk. All things considered, you should be happy with her mare.”

Bard rolled his eyes.  “I know you think I’m being an old hen…“

The Elvenking turned and asked Daeron, “Did Lord Percy consult with you about Tilda before they left?”

The Lieutenant shook his head.  “I arrived at the Castle after they were gone, but Tauriel was correct in taking her.  The fresh air and sun will do her good, but she would grow fatigued and her hands would tire from handling Blossom for an extended period of time.”  Daeron looked at Bard pointedly.  “The horse is an important part of her rehabilitation; one cannot deny that, My Lord.”

”And, when our Tilda is older...”  The Elvenking began—

”Thranduil.”

”She will be strong enough—“

”No.”

”Really Bard, I do not see why she cannot—“

”We have had this discussion.”

”But—“

”No!”

Daeron looked between the two Kings and took a drink to hide his smile. He already knew who was going to win the argument in the end. This issue wouldn’t be settled until Thranduil had his _Tithen Pen_  in the saddle of her very own Elk. 

~o0o~ 

> Before their children returned to Dale, Thranduil had arranged to purchase the horses they’d learned to ride in the Woodland Realm.  Their instructor, an Elf named Falarian, helped bring them into the City a few days before they arrived as a surprise. 
> 
> As much as the kids were eager to see Dale and be with their Da, Thranduil had guessed that they’d have too much time on their hands over the summer and would need something to do.  He knew Bard would be working day and night for a long while, and the day-to-day parenting would fall to him for the next several months - which he was happy to do.  When Thranduil walked them to the stables shortly after they arrived, Tilda squealed and clapped her hands with delight when she saw her palfrey playing in the paddock with the others.
> 
> Bain’s stallion, _Bregolas,_ was black, like the Elvenking’s, but had a star on his forehead and three white socks. The animal was of a different breed than Thranduil’s and fine-boned, but Bregolas was a good choice for a novice rider and would serve the Prince well. He would be given a heavier war-horse when he reached his majority.
> 
> Sigrid had grown attached to her sweet golden mare named _Mallorn_ , after the trees of the Golden Wood.  The horse’s mane and tail resembled the color of Thranduil’s icy tresses, and her mane and tail grew in thick and wavy.  She enjoyed combing them out and braiding them.
> 
> Tilda’s dapple-grey mare was on the smaller side - only 14 hands - and very gentle, but it was true that she still could not quite reach the stirrups without help.  Still, the horse adored the little girl and was careful and protective with her.   Tilda couldn’t pronounce the horse’s Elven name, so Falarion gave her permission to change it to “Blossom.”  Bain and Rhys snickered and started to tease her about it, but Tilda threatened to name her Petunia, and tell everyone it was their idea, which quickly shut them up.
> 
> Thranduil had even bought _Beratín,_ the chestnut gelding Rhys had been riding, as a gift for his former ward.  Alun, Rhys’s father was touched at the gesture, and offered to repay the Elvenking for his kindness, but Thranduil insisted it was a thank-you gift for supporting their family during their times of crisis.   _Beratín_ was fond of the boy, and no one wanted to see them parted.

~o0o~

Once their lunch was over, Thranduil finished his tea, and said a quick farewell to his husband, before climbing up the scaffold again under the watchful eyes of his guard, Ruvyn.  This Elf and his friend, Ivran normally guarded the Royal Chambers in the Palace, but since their King will be spending most of the year in Dale, they were asked to move here, to continue their duties, and the Royal Wing at the Palace was sealed off.  When Thranduil returned for one week every month, the simply went with him.

There was another, more important reason why Bard and Thranduil wanted Ruvyn and Ivran here, but the Kings had decided not to bring it up, until life in Dale had calmed down.

After Bard paid the bill (at his insistence, although Rod would not hear of charging Thranduil for his food – the mural he was working on would bring in busines, he said) the King of Dale and his Guard continued their stroll through the City.

It was wonderful to hear the voices of children playing in Dale, but Bard was glad he didn’t see many of them.  Soon after they arrived, the King had banned them from playing in the streets, and this was to be strictly enforced.  These youngsters were healthier than they had ever been, thanks to a winter full of good, nourishing food, and plenty of physical exercise, which was something on short supply from their life in Laketown.  This summer they were bouncing bundles of energy.

The problem was, they weren’t used to horses, wagons and carriages, and how fast they could go.  And after a couple of near-misses, he quickly laid down the law.

It helped a great deal that the children now had backyards, which were a delightful novelty but even that wasn’t really enough.  A month ago, Old Ben, the City Planner had met with Mistress Bronwyn and Thranduil to sketch out some areas in the parks for swings, climbing bars and such.  As a nod to the many former fisherman living in Dale, Ben even designed wooden boats for the kids to play on, and Thranduil suggested a milder, miniature version of an obstacle course that the Elves used for training and climbing. 

This was all well and good, of course, but the construction crews were still working from dawn to dusk to finish many parts of the city, so Bard had paid a visit to Feren’s house to meet with Gruffudd, Alis and Dafina’s grandfather, to see if he could find and organize volunteers to put them up, once the equipment was made.

The older man was delighted to be of use, so he rounded up his group of friends, and got to work.  The first one finished was the large playground by the school.  Bain and Rhys were happy to serve and work alongside the crews, under Gruffudd’s strict supervision.

As the King of Dale passed the schoolyard, he was happy to see children already at play.  “That’s a grand sight, isn’t it?”

“Wonderful, My Lord.”

They enjoyed watching them for a few minutes when a little boy who wasn’t watching where he was going, tripped in front of them and fell, scraping his knee. 

“Are you all right, son?” Bard ran over and bent down on one knee. 

The boy was sniffling, but trying hard not to cry.  “’M fine.”

“Well… you’re bleeding quite a bit.  Where’s your mam?”

“S-she’s at home with my baby sister.  My big brother’s over on the swings.”

“Tell you what,” Bard told him.  “My friend here, knows just what to do with scrapes like these, would you like him to help?”

“You’re a Elf!  What’s your name?”

“My name is Daeron.  What is yours?”

“Maddox.” He pointed to an older blonde boy, “That’s my brother Bowen.”

Bowen looked over and noticed Maddox sitting on the ground and came running over.  “Hey Mad! What happened?”

“I hurt my leg, and –“

“Who in Mordor are _you?”_ the boy, who looked to be about ten, scowled at Bard, and jumped in front of Maddox with his chin out.  “What’d you do to my brother?”

Bard held his hands up.  “I did nothing, I swear.  He tripped and fell, but this Elf here is just going to fix up your brother and we’ll help you take him home, will that be all right?”

“Just keep your grubby hands off him!” Bowen narrowed his eyes, then looked over at Daeron.  “I know you; I’ve seen you at the Palace! You’re the one who teaches the older boys in swords.”

“You are correct; I did teach the weapons classes at the Palace. Who was your teacher?”

“Ivran, and he was the best!”

“Ivran is my friend, and yes, you were lucky to have him as a teacher.  Now, I need to treat your brother, as I think he has twisted his ankle.”

“Well, you’re all right, I guess, but,” he pointed his thumb a Bard.  “I don’t like the look of this one; he’s shady looking, so you’d better make sure he’s good to my brother, or you’re both in trouble!”

 

***************

 

Daeron froze, wide-eyed, and looked to see Bard’s reaction.  Bard was just as surprised, but he covered his mouth to hide his smile.

“Well, I’ll just stay out of the way, then.” Bard said as serious as he could manage.  “I’m sorry if my scruffy appearance offended you.”

“Aye, you can make nice all you want, but that’s my brother, and if you lay a finger on him, you’ll be meetin’ my fists!”

Daeron quickly cleared his throat and tried to diffuse the situation. “You are a brave boy, Bowen; my name is Lieutenant Daeron, and this is –“

“He has to watch me,” Bard quickly interjected, raising his eyebrow at his Guard, with a smile in his eyes.  “I’m not allowed to go anywhere without him.”

“You’re his prisoner, aren’t you?  You must be a robber, or a pickpocket!  My Da told me about people like you,” Bowen curled his lip in disgust.  “He says a thief is no better than an Orc!”

“That much is true,” Bard agreed seriously.  “Daeron has to make sure I keep out of trouble.  It’s…  part of my sentence.”

Daeron rolled his eyes and gave the King a _look,_ then pulled a white cloth from his pouch. “Bowen, would you please get that wet in the fountain for me?”

“All right,” The boy reluctantly agreed, “but you best keep an eye on this fella.”

“I will make sure he behaves; you have my word.”

When Bowen ran off toward the water fountain, Daeron turned to Bard and opened his mouth to say something, but the King shook his head, then spoke to Maddox.

“You have a very good big brother.”

“Aye, he takes care of me!” the small boy smiled.  “He helps Mam, too!”

“Where’s your Da, child?  What’s his name?”

“Owen,” the boy said, matter-of-factly.  “He died when the Orcs came, so it’s just us and my Mam.”

Bard froze for a moment, then he gave the boy an encouraging smile.  “I’m sorry to hear that, lad.  I’m sure your Da was a good and brave man.”

“He was.  We went to see him in the tent where the hurt people were, and he made us promise to be good.”

“And are you doing your best to do this?”

“Aye!  And Bowen helps Mam take care of me, and Sister.  Da said he’s the ‘man of the house’ now.”

Once the brother returned with the wet cloth, Daeron carefully cleaned the boy’s wound, before he smeared it with salve and covered it with a bandage.  Then he carefully moved the ankle, but the boy yelped and flinched. “Does this hurt you?”

“Uh huh,” Maddox’s lip trembled, so Bowen took his hand.

“’Twill be all right, brother.  The Elf is a great Healer.  He made Princess Tilda all better.”

“I know her!”  The little boy looked up at Daeron with something akin to hero worship. “I heard she was really, really sick!  _You_ cured her?” 

“I helped but there were others,” the Elf told him with a smile.  “Another very good Healer was there, and King Thranduil himself.”

“King Thranduil?  He’s her Da, now, isn’t he?”

“He’s one of them,” Bard winked at Daeron.  “They tell me he’s fond of King Bard’s children, but he likes all the children.”

“King Bard is a great man!” Bowen told them.  “Too good for the likes of you!”

Daeron coughed suddenly as he stood up.  “Can you walk, young Maddox?” He held out his hand and helped the boy up.

“I’ll try,” the little dark-haired boy stood up and made a brave attempt but cried out when he put weight on it. “It’s really sore.”

Daeron asked Bowen, “Do you live nearby?”

They boys told him they lived several blocks away, so Bowen gave Daeron permission to carry young Maddox.  “You look after brother, and I’ll keep an eye on him.”  The boy gave Bard a severe look. “And no funny business, you hear?”

Bard gave Daeron a sidelong glance, “Good thing you’re here to protect them from the likes of me, Lieutenant.”

“I am only doing my duty.  Someone has to look out for these boys.”

Bard smiled, then asked Bowen.  “So, lad, what do you know about your new King?”

“I told you; he’s a great man.   He saved us from the Dragon and led my Da against the Orcs.  He’s nothing like you.”

“I’m sure he’s not; scruffy, shady characters like me wouldn’t make good Kings, would they?” Bard agreed.  “Do you know what he looks like?”

“I’ve been too busy taking care of Mam and the family, but my friend Dylan met him!”

“Oh, and what did he say about our new King?”

“Dylan says he’s taller and stronger than any Man or Elf, on Middle Earth, and he when he killed the Dragon, he didn’t even need a bow! He just threw the Black Arrow with his bare hands, right into the thing’s heart and killed it dead!”

“Dylan told you that?  Hmmm...  I heard Prince Bain helped him.”

Bowen rolled his eyes.  “Well, of course he helped him, you dolt!  Somebody had to help him carry the Black Arrow!  That thing was two rods long!”

“Oh, I doubt it was that long, lad.”

“Oh, really?”  Bowen was indignant that this criminal would dare doubt the word of his best friend Dylan. “Wanna bet?” 

Daeron snorted, but Bard gave him a look to shush him.  The King was having fun with this.

“Oh, I’m afraid prisoners aren’t allowed to gamble.”  Bard and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Daeron here won’t let me.”

“Is that why you’re his prisoner?  I’ll bet he was taking you to the dungeon!” Bowen considered this.  “You can’t be a bad man all your life; King Bard says we need good men here, so _you,”_ he poked Bard hard in the chest, “need to straighten yourself out!”

“Thanks for the advice; I’ll give it a lot of thought.” Bard fingered his chin. “You say you’ve been looking after your Mam?”

“Uh huh.  She had my baby sister right before we went to the big woods, and when we came back, we went right to our house; Mam had a bad cold, you see; she’s still sick.  She told me to take my brother to the playground, so she could get some rest.”

The Elf and the King of Dale gave each other a concerned look.

“How long has your mother been sick?” Daeron asked Bowen.

“Since we left the Elf’s Palace.”

“But that was a two months ago!  Could you tell me more about it?”

 She just feels tired a lot, and Sister is cranky all the time, so she doesn’t get much sleep.  And she gets headaches.”

“Bowen, are we close to your house yet?”  Bard asked.

“Aye,” the boy pointed to the second floor of a building at the end of a block. “We’re up there.”

With growing concern, the King and the Elf made their way to the to their home, and Bowen showed them to the doorway that opened up to stairs, on the second floor, but when they made to go in, the boy hesitated to let Bard pass, giving him a fierce look.

“Master Bowen,” Daeron said, quickly.  “He must come with us; I am in charge of him.”

“I promise to behave, son.” Bard gave him an encouraging smile.  “I’m hoping we can help your mother feel better.”

The boy clearly didn’t like the situation, but there was nothing to be done.  He led the way up the steps and opened the door.

“Mam!  We’re home!” he called.  “Mad got hurt but this really nice –“

A blonde woman in a robe with her hair in a braid down one shoulder came from one of the back bedrooms.  “Keep your voice down; I just got Owena to sleep, finally –“  She stopped at the sight of the Elf holding her son in his arms.  “Maddie boy!  What happened?”

The little boy gave his mother a tearful smile.  “I fell, and these nice people helped me!”

“Is there somewhere I can lay him down, Mistress?  I’d like to examine him more thoroughly.” Daeron told her.

“Of course,” she said with a worried look at her boy.  “Take him to their bedroom; it’s the first door to the left.”

Once Daeron laid the boy down, he sat and faced him.  “Now Maddox, I need you to be very still, and very quiet.  Can you do this for me?”

The little boy frowned, and his lips began to wobble, as he looked to his mother. 

“I’m right here, lamb,” she sat down on the other side of him and took his hand.  “Let’s do as the Elf says, yeah?”

“Okay,” he said in a very small voice.

Daeron looked up and saw Bard in the doorway, behind Bowen, who seemed to be blocking his way into the room, in an effort to protect his mother and brother.  Bard just gave him an encouraging nod to get on with it.

The Elf closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he put his hand on the boy’s ankle.  Soon he “saw” the bones in his lower leg, and foot, which all seemed to be in order, but the muscles and ligaments looked to be swollen and angry.  Just a sprain, then.  This was easily mended, so he began to sing and soothed the ankle as he coaxed the damaged soft tissue back into its normal state.  After a final check to make sure all was as it should be, he stopped singing and opened his eyes and smiled down at the boy.

“You got lighter,” Maddox said, “like the sun, a little bit.”

“Elves get that way, when we heal others.”

“That was a pretty song,” the little boy said.

“Thank you.  The words in it are very, very old, and they told your foot to get better.  How does it feel?” He gently manipulated the boy’s ankle. “Does this hurt?”

“Nuh uh.” Maddox yawned.

“That is very good.  I would still like you to get a bit of rest, so stay here for the rest of the day, and you should be good as new tomorrow, child.  I think it is time for your nap, is it not?"

The boy was having a hard time staying awake, so his mother pulled off his other shoe, and pulled the covers lightly over him, as they got up to leave the room. 

It was only then, that the mother had the chance to get a good look at Daeron’s companion, and her eyes got as big as saucers, and her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped loudly.

Bowen gave Bard a dirty look and ran to take his mother’s arm. “Don’t worry about him; I’m here and I won’t let –“

But Bowen was cut off in mid-sentence.  “Hush, Bowen!  Why didn’t you tell me the King of Dale was in our house?” She grabbed her robe and did a deep curtsy.  “My Lord Bard, I’m honored to greet you; welcome to our home.” 

When she stood back up, she smacked Bowen in the arm.  The boy’s facial expression mirrored his mother’s.

 _“You’re the King?”_ he croaked.  _“You?”_

Bard smiled, then got down on one knee so he could be eye-to-eye with the boy. “I hope you’re not too disappointed - I’m not nearly as tall or wide as the stories say, but I hope we can be friends anyway.”

Daeron covered his mouth to hide his smile, as he watched Bard hold his hand out to Bowen, who took it and they shook hands.

“I-I’m sorry, My Lord.  I –“

“You were being a brave young man and a good brother.  It’s an admirable thing to look after your mother and family like you have been doing, and I’m glad to see it.” 

“But why did you let me think you were a crook and a thief?” The boy looked genuinely hurt.

“I hope you can forgive me for that, Bowen.   I mean no harm or disrespect to you or your family, truly.  You see, I am King, so people always want to be on their best behavior around me, which is nice, but how can I know how my if people are really happy, if they do that? 

“Did my boy offend you in any way, Sire?” the mother put her arm around Bowen’s shoulder.

“Quite the opposite My Lady; Bowen is a fine lad.  People like him will help make Dale a great City.” Bard raised his eyebrows and gave the boy an encouraging smile.  “I hope you and I can be friends, yes?”

“Aye, My Lord.”  At this mother’s whispered reminder, the boy bowed low. 

“Excellent!  Now, would you like to introduce me to your mother?”

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Gi suilannon, Aran Bard!_ – I greet you, King Bard! (informal)

 

NOTES:

A rod is 5.029 meters long, or 16 ½ feet, which means that according to young Bowen, King Bard threw a Black Arrow that was about 33 feet in length, or 10.058 meters! Wow! 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Daeron take little Maddox and his brother to their mother, and discovered more than they expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know; I'm late - but I swear I have a good excuse! 
> 
> Had a visit from the Easter Bunny this year and brought me a lovely case of food poisoning, but am recovering, thank the Stars and all the Valar! If there's crappy typos or anything, I'll try to fix them as I recover.
> 
> Anyway, I want to say that Bowen and his family's appearance in this work is as much a surprise to me as it it is to you, but let's see what happens together, shall we?

 

 

“A tree may be bent by harsh winds but is no less beautiful than the tree that grows in a sheltered nook, and often it bears the richer fruit…” 

\- **Dorothy Gilman, “The Tightrope Walker”**

 

**City of Dale; Late afternoon, 17 th of July 2942 T.A. **

 “Your son tells me you have been feeling badly for a while.” Daeron said to Ellyn.  “Are you in any pain?”

 “I’m fine, really,” Ellyn sighed.  “I’m just tired from the baby and have a headache or two.”

“You have headaches all the time, Mam, and they’re getting worse.” Bowen interjected.  “Now, let the Elf take a look at you, please?” The boy took her hand and pleaded with her.

“Well, I don’t see what…” She began, but at her son’s worried, determined look, she relented.  “Oh, all right; fine.”

Daeron and Bard led her a chair at the table, and asked Bowen, “Could you open the curtains, please?”

Bard stood by as Daeron turned her chair to face the light and noticed that she squinted.  “The light bothers you?”  At her nod, he asked her to sit still, then covered her eyes with his hands for a minute or two, then took them away. “Please try your best to keep your eyes open,” then he watched, and his stomach flipped when he saw one pupil react slower than the other. “Have you been stumbling lately?”

“Aye.  I feel like I’ve got two left feet. I’m just tired, from the baby.  She’s colicky you see.”

“I understand, Mistress; please be still, while I listen to your heart –“

Just then a lusty wail was heard in from the back bedroom, and Ellyn started.

When Bowen got up to get his sister, Bard noticed the concern on the boy’s face.  “No, son,” he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “You look after your Mam; I’ll get the child.”

“Are you sure, My Lord?” Ellyn asked.

“Course I’m sure,” he grinned at the woman.  “I had three of my own, so I know my way around a wee _babinod._   Do you have nappies and such handy?”

“Aye, their stacked right by her crib.  I’ve got a covered bucket in the privy to keep them till washday.”

“Good enough,” he nodded.  “I’ll be right back.”

Bard made his way down the passage and opened the door to find little Owena sitting up in her crib, chewing her finger, and feeling sorry for herself.  The bed looked rumpled; Ellyn had been sleeping before they came, and while things were orderly, the thin layer of dust indicated the woman clearly hadn’t been well enough to clean her house properly.  He had noticed the kitchen area was clean, so it was apparent Bowen had been doing a great deal of the domestic chores.

This family needed help; there was no doubt about it.

Bard sighed, then looked down at the dark-haired little girl, with a smile.  “Now, what’s all this noise, eh?” he picked her up.  “Come now, let’s see if you need a clean nappy, love.”  Then his nose told him that, indeed, she needed changing.

“So that’s why you’re unhappy.  Come on then,” he took her over to a dresser, which had been made into a changing table, and cleaned her up and got her set up with a new nappy and a clean, dry little gown and socks. Grabbing an extra nappy to throw over his shoulder, and small blanket – he brought the baby out to the kitchen/sitter, where Daeron was finishing up his examination.

“Well, Lieutenant?  What did we find?”

As soon as the Elven Guard/Healer met his eyes, he regretted asking with such a light, airy manner.  Or perhaps, considering the concerned look on Daeron’s face, Bard had the right attitude.  There was no point in upsetting the children needlessly.

Plastering a smile on his face, the Elf said, in a tone matching the King of Dale’s, “Her heart and lungs sound very good, My Lord.  However, I think, just to be sure, I would like Mistress Ellyn to be seen by Ermon at the Healing Hall.  I am sure there is little to worry about,” he smiled at Bowen, “but we want to be sure, is that not right?”

“But My Lord, I can’t.  Maddox is sleeping, and I’ve got the baby –“

Bard regarded the boy.  “What do you think, son?”

“If Mam needs to go, then I’ll look after the others.  She’s tired _all the time,_ and her headaches are getting worse!”

All the indignation and bravado that Bowen had displayed at the park left him; his shoulders drooped with a weight that should never be placed on one so young.

“How old are you, son?” Bard asked him.

“I’m eleven, My Lord.  My birthday was two weeks ago.”  The façade was back, and he stuck his chest out proudly.  “I’m old enough to take care of my family.”

Bard smiled.  “Yes.  You certainly are, and your mother is obviously proud of you.  How about this?  I’m going to send someone here to look after your brother and sister, and I would like you to go with your Mam to the Healing Hall, to make sure she’s all right.”  He looked at Daeron, “Do you think she should be carried there?”

“Oh, My Lord!” Ellyn was aghast and embarrassed.  “I can walk –“

“Mam, do what they tell you, please!” Bowen pleaded.  “If my friend Daeron thinks you can’t, then I’m not going to let you.”

“I am proud you consider me your friend, Master Bowen.” Daeron smiled at the boy.  “I agree; I think the good lady here should be taken there.”

“But Maddox is sleeping, and the baby –“

Bard jiggled little Owena in his arms. “I will send a reliable caretaker to look after the little ones, until you get back; will that be suitable?  I give you my word, they will be taken care of.”  He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and asked him seriously.  “Does that sound good to you?”

Bowen smiled, but suddenly his eyes filled, and he was trying not to cry.  “Aye,” he quickly wiped away a tear, “Thank you, My Lord.”  The boy was embarrassed at losing his equanimity, and tried to apologize.

“Nonsense.  I’ve never believed that a man’s tears is a sign of weakness.  In fact, they show your quality!  You love your Mam, and of course you want to make sure she’s well, so no more apologies, yeah?” he lifted the boy’s chin and gave him a wink, “I’m your King, so if I tell you tears are a sign of strength, then you must believe me.”

Despite his stress, Bowen nodded.  “Aye, My Lord.”

“Now, here’s your sister; she’s been newly washed and changed, and if you need to feed her, Mistress, please do so before the carriage comes.  Daeron, will be back to take you, and bring someone with him.” Bard handed the baby to her brother. “Would you like some company while you’re waiting at the Healer’s?”

“Aye, I’d like that, but it’s okay if you can’t; I know you’re busy.”

“I’ll get there as soon as I can.  For now, we must go.” Ellyn made to stand to give courtesy, he waved her back down.  “Don’t get up, Mistress; just try to relax until the carriage gets here.”

Once the King and his Guard made their way down the steps, and into the sunshine, Bard turned and asked Daeron, “All right.  What’s going on with that woman?”

“I searched her thoroughly, and I found nothing amiss, except for her blood being weak, and…” he stopped.  “Forgive me, My Lord; I hesitate to state my worry until Ermon himself has had a look.”

“That bad?”

“Possibly, which is why I do not want to say too much. They have only recently lost their father, and…”

“I think I understand.”

Daeron said nothing, but nodded his head, and continued to watch his surroundings. 

Bard was used to his guards never looking him in the eyes when they were out and about, and he had learned to expect this.  It wasn't their job to watch him, so much as constantly survey their surroundings for possible trouble.  It seemed rude and disarming at first, until Thranduil quickly explained things.  The King of Dale became comfortable with it sooner than he expected he would; especially in light of the accident he had back in April.  Once he was up and around again, he never took their protection lightly, and let his guards look anywhere they wanted, so long as they kept him away from any more falling boulders.  He especially learned to respect his dog, and pay attention when Thangon stopped being a giant playful pup, and turned into a protector.

 “This afternoon seemed a bit serendipitous, don’t you think?   If we hadn’t stopped at the playground, if little Maddox hadn’t have fallen…  I’m beginning the think the Valar brought those kids to us, otherwise, we might never have noticed Mistress Ellyn’s condition.”

“It is interesting how things came together.” Daeron said thoughtfully.  "I hope we can be helpful for this little family.  Still, many things are out of our hands, My Lord."

"I know.  But we’ll do what’s within our power."

They reached the Healing Hall, and went into the waiting area, to find Ermon’s assistant behind the desk.  “Good afternoon, My Lord,” he got up and bowed, as Bard and Daeron explained the basics of the situation. 

“I’m arranging for transportation to bring the woman here, along with her oldest son.  He’ll want to go in the treatment room with her, but don’t; he’s only eeleven.  Daeron will accompany them in the carriage, and as soon as I can get some things arranged, I’ll stop in.”

“Of course; we will be ready, My Lord.”

The two of them headed back to the Castle, and when they reached the doors of the Great Hall, Bard spoke to one of the Guards and ordered the carriage.  “Have it brought here right away.  Lieutenant Daeron has the address and will be accompanying the patient.”

“Right away. My Lord.” The Elven Guard saluted and ran to get things ready.

They walked through the tall double-doors and their footsteps echoed as they went to the back, where they found Hilda coming out of the kitchen.  “Where have you been?”  She asked with a smile.

“Enjoying my afternoon off, then something came up.  Listen: do you know of a woman called Ellyn, wife of Owen?”

“Aye, I do.  Husband died of wounds from the Battle, and the poor mite gave birth only a few weeks later.  She’s got two other boys, I think.”

“That’s the one.  She’s sick, Hil, and we’re going to get her to the Healing Hall, but I need somebody to watch the younger two.  Can you do it?”

Hilda blew out her breath.  “I can’t right now, but I could go later, after supper."

Bard shook his head.  "I really want her to be taken now.  Who else, do you think?"

"Sigrid and Tauriel are still out with Percy, but Ben’s in his office, and I think Rhian's with him.  I can see if she's available?”

“Lead the way.” Bard held the door for her.  He looked to see if Daeron was going to follow him, and saw his momentary hesitation, before he joined them.

Bard just nodded and followed Hilda.  He was worried about Daeron, and so was Thranduil; in fact, they discussed the matter at length in bed last night, and both had decided the time was right to meet with the Elf and tell him of a letter Thranduil had received recently.

But that could wait.  They needed to get Ellyn some help.

“Oh, good; you're still here,” Hilda said, as they reached Ben’s study door.  Rhian was sitting in the chair in front of the City Planner’s desk chatting with her Da. 

The girl got up and curtsied as best she could with Darryn in her arms.  "Hello, My Lord," she said to Bard, then smiled up at Daeron.  “I haven’t had much of a chance to speak with you since we arrived – it’s been almost two months!”

The Elf smiled apologetically.  “I am sorry, Rhian.  We have been working very hard to get things settled, and I simply have not had the time."

Bard said nothing, as Daeron met his glance; this statement wasn’t quite true, but he kept silent.  He knew Daeron had been avoiding the girl, and this was a situation that would only get worse, without some sort of intervention. 

Hilda was explaining the situation to Rhian, "We need to get her to the Healer's and the oldest boy won't be parted from her, so if you could watch her five-year-old and the baby, it would be a help." 

“Well, I’ve got Darryn’s things in a bag with me, so I could ride over with you,” she looked up at Daeron.  “if that’s all right?”

“Of course, it is, Rhian,” The Elf smiled.

“When will we leave?”

“Right now,” Bard told her.  “I’ve sent for a carriage to pick you both up, and if things run late, we’ll send for all of you, and we’ll put the kids up here.”

“Of course,” Rhian agreed.  “Do you know if there’s food in the house?  If Ellyn’s been sick, she may not have been able to go to the Market.”

“Tell you what, love,” Hilda suggested, “let’s go to the kitchens and put together a basket,”

“That’s good,” Rhian agreed, then handed Darryn to the Elf.  “Here. Have a visit with your namesake for a minute or two; he’s missed you.”  The women quickly left to get the food ready.

Bard watched the Elf’s eyes light up as the baby smiled up at him.  Anyone with eyes could see the joy Daeron felt when he held the little boy, and Bard understood it.  The moment his own children were placed in his arms, they were also placed in his heart forever, and they complete him in way he never knew he needed.

 _“Gwannas lû and,_ _Mellon_ _nîn_.  Look at you, _Adan Pîn_ ; you have four teeth now!”  He laughed as the baby pulled his hair.  “ _Ai!_ I see you have learned a few tricks!” Daeron disengaged the tiny fingers fisted in his hair, “No, no; you must not chew it,” and lovingly kissed Darryn’s forehead. _“Pinig muin.”_ Bard heard him whisper to the child, as they slowly made their way to the Great Hall.

The women had the food ready by the time Bard, Daeron and Darryn caught up with them, and they heard the carriage arrive outside.

“Good luck love, I’ll be along to help, and if it begins to get dark, we’ll look after them here.” Hilda waved them off.

“That would be a good idea, My Lady.” Daeron smiled at Hilda.  “I fear this will be quite involved.”

“We’ll do that, then.”  Hilda walked them to the doors and down the steps.  Bard helped Rhian get in, then Daeron handed the baby over and sat down beside her, after giving the address to the driver.

“We’ll keep a good thought and send our prayers.  Bye!”  Hilda waved them off.

Bard sighed as they walked back toward their living quarters.  “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“Do you mean Ellyn, or poor Daeron?”

The King of Dale laughed.  “You don’t miss a thing, do you?  I was speaking of Ellyn, though.  As far as our friend Daeron, please don’t let on – he doesn’t want Rhian to know.  It’s too soon after everything, and he’d die before he’d put her in a position she isn’t ready for.”  

Hilda nodded in silent agreement.  

“Do you think the girl sees him as more than a friend, Hil?”

Hilda considered.  “No, to be honest.  She’s too excited about her new life, and Bronwyn tells me she’s plowing through her studies like nobody’s business.  Her mind is where it should be, and I admire that boy for knowing that." She sighed.  "But that's another problem for another time. Now, tell me what’s going on with Ellyn?”

“I know it’s not good, Hil.  If it was something trivial, Daeron would say right off, but he’s waiting for Ermon to give his opinion.”

“Oh, no…” Hilda put her hand over her heart.  “They’re barely getting by without Owen…”

“Are they in need?” Bard asked sharply.  This was exactly the situation he _didn’t_ want for his people.  “I don't want anyone, particularly the widows to go without!"

“No, Bard; they have everything they need.  Alun and I have set up a pension for Ellyn, and all the widows!” She snapped back at him.  “I had no idea she was poorly, or I would have come to you straight off!”   Then she sighed and tried to calm herself. “I’m sorry, Bard.  We’re all working long hours, with no end in sight.  I know you're worried and so am I. If something terrible happens to her, what will become of the kids?” 

“Let’s take it as it comes, love.  We don’t know anything for certain.  I’ll need to take care of some things in my study, then I’m heading over to meet them.  I don’t know how long we’ll be, so don’t wait supper.  I’ll get something when I get back.”

“Sounds good.” Hilda squeezed his arm, and went back to work, as Bard walked to the back of the Great Hall to their rooms.

 

***************

 

Daeron looked over at the young girl out of the corner of his eye.  Rhian’s hair was pinned up, and her curls around her face looked like a halo.  She looked up from the baby and smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat.

Oh, he wanted so badly to touch her hair, the back of her neck, to have her look at him with the same longing he felt… 

He swallowed and forced himself to focus on Darryn.  “May I hold him?”

“Of course!” she laughed.  “He’s practically your child, too.”

She didn’t mean anything by it, of course, but the rush that came over him at hearing those words filled him with love and pride.  He’d always felt like Darryn was his child, since the first day Rhian put him in his arms. 

“I do love him, very much,” the Elf kissed the boys head and ran his fingers through Darryn’s dark curls.  “I am sorry I have not seen the both of you.  There is so much to do here, and Bard is..."

"I know.  I didn't mean to make you feel bad.  Did you see his new teeth?”

The Elf nodded.  “I did."

“Aye, he lights up a room.” Rhian stroked the baby’s head fondly.  “I still can’t believe he’s mine, sometimes…”  She looked up at him and leaned her head on his shoulder.  “I’ll never forget the day he was born…”

“I will not either.” Daeron agreed.  “It is not an adventure I wish to repeat, but I am glad we did not lose either of you.”

“Thanks to you.  You’ve looked after me since we met.” 

The Elf smiled down at her but avoided meeting her eyes.  “It is what friends do, _Mellon_ _nîn_.”  Before he could become melancholy, he changed the subject. “How do you like your new home?  Do you enjoy your new father?”

“Oh, I love it!   Da is so kind, and he and Darryn adore each other.  It’s a bit rough, compared to the Palace, of course, but I enjoy keeping house.  I admit, I don’t see much of Da; he’s still working with Lord Bard to get the City finished, but hopefully that’ll settle down in a while.”

“Do you spend a great deal of time alone?”

“Oh, it’s fine; I’ve been studying a lot.  I get books from the school, and I work on them while Darryn’s asleep.”

“You could not read or write before?  I heard many of the folk from Laketown could not, but I thought your father came from a wealthy family.”

“He had money, but he didn’t believe in educating women.  I’d taught myself to read a little bit, and I never knew how to write.  It wasn’t until after we got to the Palace that I’d had a chance to learn.  Indis helped me a lot.”

“Aunt was a teacher for many years.”

“She told me. It was hard at first, but now, I just… love it!  I’m really good at maths, and I’m learning Sindarin, too.  I really miss Indis, and it would be fun to write letters to her in Tengwar.”

“I am happy for you, _Hind Calin._   Are you still seeing Hannah?”

“Oh, yes, every other week, now, but if I have a bad day, I can talk with her sooner.”

”Have you?”

”Every once in a while.  I was in the Market Square last month, and it was crowded, and I just... felt like I was going to die unless I got out of there.” Rhian’s face was somber.  “Hannah took me back a couple of times since then, and talked me through it.  She told me I’ll have setbacks, and I do, but overall, I’m getting better.”

“You have made remarkable progress since the Battle.  I see very little of the depressed, injured girl I met trying to carry water that day.  Your bruises are healing on the inside.”

Rhian sighed with a smile.  “I look back on that time, and I…  I remember thinking I would always feel that bad; I couldn’t see my way out of it.”

This time, Daeron met her eyes.  “It took great courage to face all the things life had thrown at you.  You should be proud of yourself.”

“I am trying to be.  I still struggle with it, though.  Sometimes it’s scary, but… I want to know _me_ better.  Hannah says I’ve been so busy trying to just survive, I never had the chance to know what I’m good at, or what I even like!  Does that makes sense?”

“It makes perfect sense.  You have been hiding almost all your life, trapped in a cocoon so you could feel safe.  But you cannot know what is to breathe the free air and to fly, until you work very hard to get out, and spread your wings."  He lifted his arm and put it around her.  "You are only beginning to know all that you can be.”

“That’s how I feel.  It’s funny that I’ve had a hard time learning how to be happy, but there it is.  It's harder to trust the good things - the bad stuff is always easier to believe.”

“It will become easier.  By all means, Rhian, live well, love your son and Ben, but if you can have faith in _you_ , that is a peace no one can take away from you.”

“Do you feel that way about yourself?”

It was a good question, and Daeron considered his answer to her carefully.  “Rhian, _no one_ feels wonderful about themselves all the time, so do not expect that.  You will succeed in many things and you will fail in many things, also.  In fact, it is your failures that can help you to become strong.”

 _“What?”_ Rhian laughed.  

“You heard me.” Daeron grinned.

“How?”

“If you learn to get up and forgive yourself when you make mistakes, you will understand more about yourself and more about life.  Do you understand?”

“I think so.  I think Hannah’s been trying to tell me the same thing.  She also tells me not to make any big decisions or changes in my life until I’m better.”

”That is wise advice.  This is an important time for you, and you must not allow yourself to become distracted.  If you did, it would be for the wrong reasons.  No one wants to see you be hurt.”

She looked up at him, giving him a smile that made his heart pound.  “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

“I do.  And you are a good friend to me as well.” He smiled down at the baby.  “You also bring me joy, Darryn”

“Where would I be if you hadn’t tried to help me that day back at the camp?  I owe you my life.”

“No, Rhian,” He shook his head firmly.  “You owe _yourself_ your life; do you understand?   There is no debt, except to your own possibilities.”

Baby Darryn chose that moment to grab the Elf’s nose, and he couldn’t help but laugh.  “Wait to thank me when you feel whole, _Mellon_ _nîn_.”

“When will that be?”

“You will know.” He told her with a smile. 

Just then the carriage stopped at Ellyn’s house.  To their surprise, the driver got down to go with them.  “I know this family, sir.  Owen was a good man, and my missus just said to me the other day how we haven’t hardly seen his wife out and about, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to go up with you and say hello.”

"What is your name?" Daeron asked the man.

"Daffyd, son of Lloyd." He held out his hand. "I've seen you out and about with the King and his consort, but haven't had a chance to make acquaintance."

"I am please to meet you, Daffyd, son of Lloyd."

“It’s nice of you to want to come up with us,” Rhian told him.  “I don’t know Mistress Ellyn, but I am here to look after the two younger children so Daeron can take her to the Healing Hall.”

The man inhaled sharply.  “She’s sick?”

“She has not felt well for a while, so we need to have her checked over.”  Daeron explained.  

“Oh, my…  That would explain why Bowen’s been doin’ the marketing.  Here,”  Daffyd held out his hand and took the large basket.  “Allow me to help, ma’am.”

So the three of them brought the basket of food and the baby up the stairs and knocked on the door.

Bowen opened the door.  “Hello Daeron.”

“Hello, my young friend.  This is Rhian, and baby Darryn; she will be staying with your brother and sister, will that be all right?”

Rhian smiled at the boy.  “I’ve seen your family at the Palace.” She smiled. “Hello, Bowen.”

”Pleased to meet you,” Bowen answered, then noticed the familiar man beside her. "Hi Daffyd!"

The man tousled the boy's hair.  "Hello, lad.  Hear your Mam's doing a bit poorly, so I'll help you get her there."

Bowen looked enormously relieved, then told Daeron, "She's lying down with Mad and Sister's with her."

“Thank you.  Rhian, could you come with me, please?”  They went in the back and soon reappeared with the rest of the family.

"I fed Owena what I could, so she should need changed in about half hour," she was explaining to Rhian.  "Maddox is a good boy and shouldn't give you any trouble...."

The carriage driver walked over,  "Ellyn, come now, let's get you gone, so we can get you back."

"Daffyd!  How's Anna?"

"She's fine, but she'll not be happy to find out how poorly you've been.  Why didn't you send for us, love?  Well, never mind that now," he walked over and took her elbow. "Let's get you gone quick, so we can get you back quick.

Soon they had the younger children settled in Rhian’s care, and Daeron, Ellyn and Bowen were on their way to see Ermon.

Daeron watched the boy put his arm protectively around his mother, who looked exhausted.  “It’ll be fine, Mam.  They’ll make you better, you’ll see.  These Elves are magic.”

“Oh, I’m sure they are, love,” she smiled.  “You’re a good boy.”

“Listen to you mother, child.” Daeron smiled at Bowen.  “She is correct.”  Then he noticed the woman’s face grow pale and sweaty. 

“Do you feel sick, Ellyn?”

She managed a short nod, before she vomited violently.  Daeron instantly jumped across to the other seat and took a cloth from his bag and wiped her face. 

“I’m so sorry…” 

“No, Mistress; you are unwell, and the motion is not something you are used to.  Now I want you to concentrate on taking deep breaths; it helps.”  Daeron looked at the boy, who was genuinely frightened. “Are you all right?”

Bowen just stared at his mother and nodded.  “Will King Bard be there to wait with me?” he asked in a small voice. 

“If he is not there when we arrive, I will send for him immediately.”  Daeron assured him.  “I know you are doing your best to be brave, and I must ask you to hold on for just a while longer.  Can you do this for me?”

Between the sight of his mother and the smell in the carriage, the boy was not doing well, but the Elf had little choice but to physically support Ellyn and try to talk Bowen through his anxiety. 

At last they arrived at the Healing Hall, where Elves were waiting to open the door and help them inside.  “Please,” Daeron called up to the driver.  “The good lady was sick, so you will need to scrub it down.  The King will pay for the cost.”

“There'll be no cost, sir.  Just look after her and those kids.” The driver tipped his cap.  “I'll clean things up, then come back to take her home.  If you if you need anything from the Livery, ask for me personally, you hear?  

“I will pass along your best wishes, Daffyd.  Thank you,” Daeron waved his hand and went inside.

Bowen was sitting alone in the line of chairs, and Ellyn was already in a treatment room with the door was closed.  He went to the desk and quietly addressed the girl, “Please send someone to ask King Bard to come,” he nodded in the direction of the Bowen.  “He is a friend of the King’s and could really use some help.”

“Of course,” and she went to see it done.  

Daeron went to sit beside Bowen.  “If you want me to wait with you, I will.” 

A tear rolled down the boy’s cheek.  “Could you go help my Mam?”

He patted the boy’s knee.  “I will.  And as soon as I know anything, I will come back, yes?”

Bowen nodded, staring straight ahead.  “Just go.”

Daeron sighed and went to the second room on the right, and knocked twice before he came in.  “I am sorry to be late; I had to make some quick arrangements.”

Ermon had Ellyn sitting on a table with a bowl next to her.  She had been changed into a clean gown and Elénaril was helping her to clean up.  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I made such a mess.”

“Please; it is of no consequence,” Ermon told her.  “We have seen much worse."

Elenaril was put the dirty clothing into a tin bowl and joked,  "Ermon is much older than me, so when he tells you he has seen worse, you can believe him.” She smiled at the woman and patted her hand, as she took the items from the room. 

Ermon stepped forward.  “Now that you feel nice and clean, I would like you to squeeze my hands, if you would…” she did so.  “Very good.  Push my hands up; that’s right.  Now push them down…”  Ermon tilted her face up at him.  “Can you stick out your tongue as far as you can?”

 _Nai…_   Daeron closed his eyes and sighed, when he saw it; her tongue listed to the side, and not straight ahead.  He had also noticed her right side was noticeably weaker.  The headaches, the nausea, the fatigue…  _Please…_

Ermon glanced quickly at Daeron, then Elenaril, who also noticed it, then asked his patient.  “Mistress, has your nausea passed?”

“I think so.” Ellyn said.  “I just wasn’t used to the carriage is all.  I don’t see what the fuss is about.”

“Perhaps it is best if we see for ourselves, do you not think?” Ermon smiled at her.  “Now, I am going to ask my wife to hold your head still, and I will place my hands on the top.  It is how we Elves ‘see’ what problems there are.  I may take on a glow, so if that happens do not be alarmed.”

“Will it hurt?”  The woman asked.  she didn't sound nervous, so much as tired.

“It should not.  It would be better if you stayed awake, but if you are more comfortable, I can have you sleep.”

“I’ll try to stay awake.”

“We will try that, but if you become uncomfortable, please let me know.  Daeron would you stand here, and place your hands atop mine?”

So they began.  What Daeron had “seen” for a moment in Ellyn’s house, was apparent upon further examination, and he could sense the other Healer’s surprise and sadness.   He had hoped he was wrong.  But there it was: dark, menacing and unconcerned about the person it was poisoning.  It held no consideration for the life she was trying to make for her family.

Ellyn had a brain tumor. 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Gwannas_ _lû_ _and_ , _Mellon_ _nîn_  - It has been too long, my friend 

 _Adan_ _Pîn_ \- Little Man

 Pinig muin - My little dear

 _Hind Calin_ \- “Green-eyes” (Daeron’s personal pet name for Rhian)

 _Nai…_ \- Alas…

 

NOTE:  As I have said before I am not a doctor/medical person, but I see them on TV, and I can Google with the best of them, so there's lots of artistic license here with Ellyn's illness.  I will always wish that the real world could have the benefit of Elven magic when it comes to illness...

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daeron is saddened to see his diagnosis confirmed, but the Chief Healer and his wife need to observed and examine her more thoroughly before they declare her case hopeless.
> 
> Bard and Thranduil get ready to play host for their overnight guests, and do their best to make them feel at home. Of course the Elvenking makes a fuss over the baby...

 

“My heart no longer felt as if it belonged to me. It now felt as it had been stolen, torn from my chest by someone who wanted no part of it.”   
― [ **Meredith T. Taylor**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7456408.Meredith_T_Taylor), [ **Churning Waters**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/27080282)

 

 

 

**City of Dale;  Early evening, 17 th of July 2942 T.A. **

Tumors were something Daeron had had certainly come across in his years working in Old Dale.  Men and women’s bodies sometimes produced them for unknown reasons.  Some of them were not harmful, and could be dealt with, but some…  were not.  And if it was in the woman’s brain…  He didn’t want to finish the thought.

Ermon moved Daeron’s hands off and they both opened their eyes. 

“How do you feel, good Lady?” the Chief Healer asked her gently. 

“I don’t have a headache anymore.”  Ellyn sighed with relief.  “That feels so much better.  Thank you!”

“I am glad we could give you some relief.  Would you mind waiting here while I speak with my colleagues?  We will return momentarily, but first, let me help you lie down so you can relax.”

They stepped out and into the back for a whispered conference.

“I was right, was I not?”

“If you suspected a brain tumor, then yes, you were correct.” Ermon said.  “And it appears to be malevolent.  My question is, has it spread?  And how far?  I want to keep her here for a few days.  She is exhausted, and I want to observe and examine her more thoroughly.”

“If it is a malignant tumor, and there is nothing you can do; why keep her?” Daeron asked. 

“That is not necessarily true. If it is contained, we may be able kill it, although that is not without great risk.”

“You can kill it?”  Daeron was a bit taken aback.  Then again, he shouldn’t be surprised.  This was a Sindar Elf who had studied under the great Elrond himself.  Ermon was every bit as powerful as Thranduil when it came to the Healing Arts, and had the benefit of 3000 more years of experience than Daeron had.

“Sometimes we can, but I must know exactly to what extent this has spread.  Because if it has…”  Ermon sighed.  “Then all we can do is keep her as comfortable as possible.”

“I would like to tell her this, if you will permit it.”  Daeron offered.

“No, Daeron.” The Chief Healer was firm.  “We will take things from here, _mellon_.”

“But –“ the Guard began to protest.

“ _Mellon_ _nîn_ ,” Elénaril put her hand on Daeron’s arm.  “I know your heart is in the right place, but you are also a Guard with other duties –“

“But that does not mean I must turn my back on them!”

“You do not have to turn away from them, Daeron.  Your compassion does you credit, but Mistress Ellyn is our patient now, and you must allow us to take over from here.” Elénaril said firmly, but not unkindly.

“She is right,” Ermon assured him.  “Ellyn will need a great deal of care, and she needs a chance to place her confidence in my wife and I.   I am not being territorial, you understand.  She will do better if she can rely on us, and you must step back and serve as a support to the family.” 

“Of course; I am sorry.” The Guard sighed.  “Can I at least be there when you tell her?”

Ermon nodded and gave him a sad smile.  “She and her family will need a great deal of support, and you can help in that capacity more than we can.”  A thought occurred to him.  “Ellyn has an infant at home, yes?”

“She does.  A girl child, the same age as Darryn.”

“I remember the midwife delivering the babe after the Battle.  I need you to send for Hannah immediately.”

“I’ll see to it right now.”  Daeron turned and quickly went out to the waiting area, to see Bowen sitting there next to Bard, and they both stood up. 

“What?” The boy demanded.  “What’s wrong with my Mam?”

Daeron squatted down so he was eye-level in front of Bowen and put his hands on his narrow shoulders.  “They do not know exactly how sick she is yet, _Mellon_ _nîn_ ; that will take a few days, so she will need to stay here.”

“But what about my brother and sister?” Bowen’s eyes filled with tears.  “I don’t know what to do!”

Bard was off his chair and went down on one knee. “Bowen, I’m hoping you and your family could come and stay with us in the Castle tonight.  My children will be happy to help you take care of them, so your Mam won’t have to worry.”

“But I have to look after my Mam!  Da made me promise!” he wailed.  _“I_ have to!” Bowen began to cry in earnest, and Bard gathered him into his arms.

Over the boy’s shoulder, Bard looked at Daeron, who shook his head slightly.  Bard closed his eyes in dismay and silently mouthed a curse.  The King of Dale held the little boy tighter, as Daeron stood up straight.

“Ermon suggested sending for Hannah.”

“Good idea.” Bard agreed, still holding the child.  “Ruvyn is outside – tell him to make haste.”

“Bowen,” Daeron walked around Bard so he could see the boy’s face.  “I am going to go back; are you all right with King Bard for a few minutes?”

Through his hiccups, the boy nodded, then buried his head in Bard’s neck, while the King soothed him.

Daeron went back to find the Elven couple in with Ellyn.  “How do you feel, Mistress?” he smiled.

“My head feels much better.  I need to get home to the children soon.”

“My Lady,” Ermon said gently.  “We have discovered the source of your headaches, and I am afraid it is rather serious.”  Elénaril went and sat beside her and put her arm around the woman’s shoulders.

“What do you mean?”

“Ellyn, when Daeron, who is a talented Healer, examined you in your home, he had his suspicions, but wanted our opinion first, so please understand that we would never say something like this unless we were absolutely sure.”

“Oh, stars…” the woman went pale.  “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“It is, and I must be truthful you.  We saw a growth in your brain, and it looks to be of a dangerous kind.”

“No.” She shook her head.  “No. You… You can’t tell me that.  I can’t have this!  My children…  You can’t say such things...” She put her head in her hands.

Daeron sat on the other side of her and help support her.  “There is more, and we must listen carefully to Master Ermon, all right?” he asked her gently. 

“Am I going to die?” Ellyn asked the Chief Healer. 

“I honestly do not know.  What I can tell you is that we must take some time to see if it has spread anywhere other than your head.  If it has not, we can attempt to kill it, and if we are successful, then there is a chance you may recover.”

“If it hasn’t?”

Ermon sighed, as Daeron held her hand tighter.  “Then we will do our best to reduce your pain and keep you comfortable, so you can be with your children as long as possible.  I am so very sorry, My Lady.”

Ellyn began to cry.  “I’m all the children have now... This is so cruel.  It’s just so cruel.”

“We know it is difficult, Ellyn,” Elénaril told her.  “But as of this moment, we have some hope, so let us hang on to that for as long as we can, yes?”

The women nodded but said nothing. 

“We need you to remain here for a day or two.  It is the only way we can know how to proceed from here.” The Chief Healer told her.  “I have also noticed your exhaustion, which is dangerous for someone in your condition.”

“What about my children?”

“Oh, that’s already taken care of, Mistress.” Daeron smiled.  “King Bard is in the waiting room, and he is arranging for them to stay with the Royal Family while you are here.”

“But I’m nursing Owena!”

“I am afraid you must discontinue,” Elénaril told her. “You will need all your strength and nourishment to fight this.  Your daughter is… seven months?”

“Eight.”

“This should make it a bit easier to wean her off mother’s milk. We are summoning Hannah and she will be here soon to help you.”

“I need to see my son,” Ellyn wiped her eyes took a deep breath, “but I don’t want him to know anything about this, please.  If it’s bad news, I want my kids to be happy and have their dreams as long as possible.”

“You are a brave woman,” Daeron squeezed her shoulders.  “I will get him.  Would it be all right if King Bard comes, too?”

“Yes. But I don’t want either of you to let on how serious this is.”

The Guard quickly fetched Bowen who ran to his mother’s room with all speed.

“What is it?” Bard asked quietly, before they followed him. 

“A growth in her brain, My Lord.  It may be fatal, but I am praying it is not.”

“Oh, shit…”  Bard ran his hand over his face, then took a deep breath.  “Right then.  She’s staying here?”

“Yes, and the children must be fetched and stay with you at least tonight.”  Daeron remembered something. “The man from the livery – Daffyd I think his name was – seemed to know the family and offered his services without charge.”

“Good to know.  I don’t know Daffyd that well, but if things are…  as bad as you fear, he may have some ideas.  Remind me to look into it, later.  For now, the kids will come with us and we’ll take tomorrow as it comes.”  Bard stood up straight.  “Let’s go deal with this.”

They went into the room, where mother and son were holding each other tight.   “I want to take care of you,” Bowen was saying.  “I could take you home and look after you.”

“No, love,” Ellyn kissed his hair. “Today, these very nice people are going to look after me, and you must let King Bard and Daeron look after you and your brother and sister.”  She stroked his head. “You are a good son, but sometimes I want you to be just a boy, and let people take care of _you.”_ She smiled as she took his face in her hands.  “Think if it as an adventure.  Remember when we rode to the Elf King’s Palace and lived there?  That was a real adventure, wasn’t it?  Now, you get to go and play in the Castle!  Won’t that be fun?”

“But what about you?”

“Me?” Ellyn laughed.  “I’m going to lounge around here, and they’re going to wait on me hand and foot, and catch up on some sleep, so I won’t be so tired.  _That_ will be my adventure!”

Bard smiled, “Have you met Bain, my son?”

Bowen shook his head.  “He’s older than me, so I was in a different class.”

“Well, did I also tell you that we have two dogs?  And a cat?  And that one of the dogs is really big and goofy and likes to snore?”

Despite his anxiety, the boy laughed.  “No.”

“Well, the only way you’re going to see for yourself is to come with me, then.  Have you had supper?”

“Nuh uh.  We came here.”

“Then it’s settled.” He tousled the boy’s hair.  “I’m hungry too, so let’s send your mother off to get some rest, and I’ll bring you to see her tomorrow, all right?”

“Aye.” He hugged Ellyn tight.  “Bye, Mam. Get some sleep, yeah?” Bowen turned to address Ermon.  “She doesn’t get enough sleep, so make sure she rests, and give her honey for her tea.  She only likes a little bit.”

The Chief Healer bent down and smiled at the boy.  “My name is Ermon, and I promise we will take excellent care of your mother.  In fact, I am glad you told me this.  We will administer something called a _losta-luith_.”

“What’s that?”

“It is a sleeping spell that will help your mother have a long restful night.”  The Chief Healer addressed the boy very seriously. “Is that all right with you?”

Bowen considered this for a moment then nodded.  “A good sleep will help a lot.  Do that, will you?  And if you give her eggs in the morning, she likes them scrambled with cheese.  It’s her favorite.”

“I like my eggs that way, as well.” Ermon stood up straight and asked.  “Do you trust me to look after your mother?”

Bowen looked to Daeron and Bard, with concern in his eyes.  “Can you vouch for him?” he pointed to the Chief Healer.

Bard nodded his head.  “Ermon is nearly 6,000 years old, and he helped save my life.  He’s a Sindar Elf and they are powerful Healers.”

“What about her?” the boy looked at Elénaril, who had the grace take this seriously, and not be condescending.  “I remember you from the Elf’s Palace.  You took care of Mad’s sore throat last winter.”

“I did, and I remember what well-behaved children your mother has.”  She bowed formally to Bowen.

“Elénaril knows everything to know about medicine, and she helped save Princess Tilda’s life.” Bard added.  “They’re good people.”

“It is true, Bowen.” Daeron affirmed.  “You can trust both of them.”

Bowen sighed, and if the situation wouldn’t have been so heartbreaking, it would have been funny; it pierced their hearts.  A desperately ill widow with three small children was no laughing matter.  Neither was the sight of an eleven-year-old boy taking on too much responsibility like this, but they were kind enough to indulge him, so he could feel better.

“All right then.  I’ll come by tomorrow, Mam.”  He went and kissed his mother, then took Bard’s hand.  “Let’s go so she can rest.”

The Healers made ready to take her to a room, while Bard and Daeron went out to the area.  The door opened, and Hannah appeared.   “My Lord,” she gave courtesy.  “Hello, Daeron!”

“Mistress Hannah,” the men nodded their heads.  “Ellyn needs to stay here for a few days, so her children will bunk down with us tonight.”

“All right,” the midwife nodded.  “Who has Maddox and Owena?”

“Rhian’s at their house with Darryn.  I’m about to send a carriage to pick them up, but I’ll need your help, getting the baby fed properly.”

“Can the baby be brought here?”

“No, Mistress.” Daeron told her, looking at Bowen.  “They will explain, when you see Ellyn.”

“I’ll go do that, then meet you at the Castle, all right?”

“Thanks again, Hannah,” Bard smiled, then squeezed Bowen’s hand.  “Now, young man, lets to get some dinner!”

They went outside to find the sun low in the West, then made their way through the streets to the Courtyard and the entrance to the Great Hall.  Along the way, Bard and Daeron kept up a light chatter to help lift the boy’s mood. 

“This whole Castle is yours?”

“It is.  It still needs a lot of work though, we only live and work in part of it at the moment.  That’s why we use the entrance to the Great Hall now, but when it’s finally finished, there will be other entrances.”

“It’ll be really big when you’re done.”

“It will, but lots of things will be going on here, you know.”

“Like what?” Bowen looked up at Bard with curious eyes.

Daeron listened to the King explain things to the boy, as he walked behind them and let his eye rove their surroundings.  He thought about what Ermon had said about backing away and allowing them to take over, and it was a sensible move. 

Some could interpret that as the Chief Healer being territorial and proud, and he knew Elves who were like that, and some were insufferable.  But Ermon was none of those things, which is why King Thranduil wanted him in that position.  The Healer, along with his wife, had no concern for who they offended, when it came to the welfare of their patients. 

They knew this woman would need to lean on them a great deal, regardless of her situation, and his involvement would only impede that relationship.  Ellyn was in the best of hands.

They had reached the courtyard and were making their way up the steps and about to enter the Great Hall, when Bard turned. 

“Daeron? Would you send a carriage to fetch Ellyn’s family and bring them here?”

“I could go, if there is no one else.  Maddox knows me.”

Bard looked at him thoughtfully, as noticed his slight hesitation.  “I think you should stay here and help me get Bowen settled.” The King smiled down at the young lad. “Daeron hasn’t had his dinner either, and we have to make sure he eats, don’t we?”

“Aye.  I’m hungry.”

“So am I,” Bard agreed, then address the Guard.  “See to it, then come right back; we’ll have your meal hot and ready in the family dining room.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” He saluted and left.  He felt both disappointed and relieved.  He won’t have deal with the turmoil of being so close to the woman he loved, but part of him craved her like he craved the air in his lungs. 

He was in torment, and to make things worse, it was obvious that King Bard had seen it!  This thought made his heart race with anxiety.  And Bard would speak to Thranduil, and that would be a disaster.  He had gone to his King months ago with his dilemma; he’d promised Thranduil he could discipline himself to not reveal his feelings, but it was becoming impossible.  

He loved everything about his job with the Royal Family.  He truly did, and he’d been trying his best to appear normal and not let his love for Rhian affect his duties in any way.  He didn’t think he had, but what if they decided to remove him from his post? 

 

***************

 

“Hello, Sea Monsters!” Bard brought Bowen into the Family Room, where they were all sitting.   Thranduil was paying cards with Sigrid, Bain was carving a piece of wood, under Uncle Percy’s and Thranduil’s tutelage, and Tilda was curled up next to Hilda, watching her knit.

“I would like you to meet my new friend, Bowen.  This is King Thranduil, of course –“

“Good evening My Lord,” the boy bowed politely.

“I am pleased to meet you, child.” Thranduil got up from his chair and came over to shake his hand.  “I am told you and your family will be staying here tonight and I bid you welcome.  We are happy to have you.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

“Come in; sit and relax.”

Hilda got up.  “I’ll go see to your supper.  Where’s Daeron?”

“He’ll be along shortly, Hil.  I’ve sent someone to fetch Bowens brother and baby sister and drop of Rhian at home. Hannah will be here in a little while to help with the baby.”  Bard leaned closer.  “Do we have any small bottles, and some goat’s milk?”

Hilda shook her head.  “Not that I know of, but I’ll see to it.” She pulled Bard out into the corridor.  “What did you find out?” She whispered.

“It’s bad, Hil, but Ellyn doesn’t want the children alarmed, so we’ll wait to explain.”

The woman’s eyes filled but took hold of herself quickly.  “Then we’ll look after these kids for as long as it takes.”

“We will.”

Thranduil urged Bowen farther into the room, and soon Bain invited him to sit on the floor, so he could tell him about the box he was making. 

Hannah arrived a few minutes later, and the carriage with the children arrived soon after that. Both Daeron and Turamarth came in, each carrying a child and a basket of clothes.

“And here is young Maddox!” Daeron smiled as he introduced the group.  The boy was weepy, and hung on to the Guard for dear life, so he didn’t attempt to put the boy down. 

Bring him over and sit on the chair, Lieutenant.” The Elvenking instructed. “If he’s comfortable with you, let us not upset him more.” 

Thranduil turned to the infant in Turamarth’s arms.  “And who is this?” he smiled at the baby girl, who looked around curiously.

“This, My Lord, is the infant Owena.”  Turamarth smiled down at the baby.  “Rhian tells me she has just been changed, and Rhian fed her a little bit, after Darryn was finished.”

“That was nice of her,” the Elvenking agreed. “And young Maddox has had his supper?”

“She told me he didn’t eat much so we should try to tempt him.”

“We will do that,” he took the baby from the Guard.  “Hello, young Owena.  You have a lovely name do you not?”

“Aye!” Bowen told him.  “We named her after my Da. He died two weeks before she was born.”

“That is a wonderful tribute, Bowen.  Lady Hilda has been telling me about your Da, and what a good and brave man he was.”

“He was the best.” the boy stuck out his chest, for a second, then lost confidence.  “He was my best friend.” 

“I believe you.  I know you miss him, and I am sorry about that; but he helped make Dale free, so we could be here and happy.”

Bowen didn’t reply; just looked at the floor.  Thranduil lifted his chin and looked into his eyes.  “I know that is small comfort, Bowen.  It is all right to miss him; but never turn away from those who love you.  I made that mistake when my wife was killed.”

“You had a wife, sir?”

“I did, and I loved her very much.  When she died I didn’t let anyone help me, and now I wish with all my heart I had.”

“I’ll try.”

“That is all anyone can ask.”  Thranduil’s tone brightened.  “You will feel better when you have a good meal, but while that is being taken care of Lord Bard and I would like to show you where you will be sleeping tonight. And I am sure you have heard about our dogs.”

Bard took Bowen’s hand and led the way.  “Here is the privy,” he opened the door.  “I will leave this door ajar, so you can find it easily.  Now,” he opened the next door, here is the bathing room.”

“It’s big!” Bowen whistled.

“Well, it has to take care of a lot of people.” Bard laughed.  Now, this is where you will be staying tonight.  I thought Maddox would feel safer sleeping with you, so you will share Bain’s room,” they went in and Bard showed him the big bed.

“But where will Prince Bain sleep?  Won’t he be mad?”

“Nope. Bain is going over to his friend Rhys’s house.  He’s just waiting for Alun to finish work, then they’ll go from here.”

“But what about Sister?”

Bard laughed and pointed to his husband.  “As you can see, Lord Thranduil loves babies, so he’s set up a crib in our bedroom, and we will look after her tonight.  Come on, I’ll show you.”

Bard walked him to the end of the corridor and opened the double door into the Kings’ Bedchamber.

“This room is a lot bigger than the ones at my house!” Bowen marveled. 

“It is a big room but don’t be fooled; your smaller rooms are a lot easier to heat in the winter.”  Bard went over to the wooden crib set up by Bard’s side of the bed. “See over here?  My husband set it up close to the fireplace, so your sister will be plenty warm,” he winked at Thranduil.  “I doubt she’ll spend much time in it; something tells me this Elf here won’t want to put her down.”

“That’s good.” The boy felt a little better.  “Do you think supper’s ready?”

“Let’s go see.  Now can you point out to me where you’ll be staying, so you’re sure?”

“There is Prince Bain’s room, and there’s the privy, and Sister will be staying at the end with you.”

“Very good.” Bard rubbed his hands together. “Let’s eat!”

 

 

As they sat down to supper, Bard noticed the boys had a good appetite, and they all tried to make the conversation light and casual.  Halfway through, Hannah arrived, carry supplies for the baby.

“What’s that?”  Tilda pointed to the strange-looking glass container.  “Is it a teapot?  It’s awfully small.”

“This,” Hannah held it up, “is how we are going to feed the baby.  Here,” she unscrewed the top, “is where we’ll put the milk in, and here,” she pointed to the small spout protruding from the side with a hole it, “is where the baby puts her mouth and she can suck on it.  You see?”

“But it would come out too fast and get all over!” Tilda shook her head.  “It won’t work.”

“Smart of you to notice, Little Bean,” Bard told her, “what you have to do is put a piece of boiled cloth inside the cup and stuff it inside the nipple sticking out.”

“Which I have right here,” Hannah unfolded a kerchief which showed several small squares of clean white cloth.  “This way the baby can get what she needs, but it won’t be too much for her.”

“I still don’t see how it will work.”  The little girl wasn’t convinced.

Hilda laughed. “You’ll have to take our word for it, lovey, because that’s exactly how we fed you when you were a baby.”

“Really?  With that thing?”

“Yep,” Bard stroked her hair.  “We did it for a almost a year, Beanie.” He smiled at Hannah.  “Where did you find this?”

“The Healing Hall has them.  Ermon had the glass blowers in the Woodland Realm make some, and the Dwarves have their version, too, so Óin’s been looking into it.  I have to say, it’s so much better than the clay one we had for Tilda, don’t you think?  You can see how much baby gets, and it’s easier to see if you have it clean!”

“I remember the ones from Laketown,” Sigrid came over. “These are a lot better.  I think you came just in time, Hannah.”

Little Owena began to fuss and kick and chew on her fingers, so the bottle was prepared, and soon Owena was feeding in the Elvenking’s arms under Hannah’s careful tutelage, while the others finished their supper.

“You might be in for a bit of a rough night, My Lord. Her little tummy isn’t used to anything other than her Mam, so she might have a bit of gas.  Gently rub her tummy if it hurts her, and watch closely for a rash on her bottom.” She pulled out a jar of salve.  “Use this, when you’re changing her, and let me know if she has problems.  I can set her up with a wet-nurse if she can’t tolerate it.  She can also have things like thin porridge, applesauce and smashed up vegetables.”  Hannah reached into her pack and pulled out a tiny spoon on a long handle.

“Thank you, Mistress.” Thranduil had just produced a loud burp from Owena.  “We will call you, if we need you.”

Bard got up and walked Hannah out.  “I want someone to walk you home,” he told her.  “It’s getting dark.”

“Thank you.” The woman had dropped her cheerful façade and stopped to look up at him.  “Ellyn told me what they said, and…  I just can’t believe it.  Why her?  After losing Owen like that...”  A tear escaped her.  “I just can’t believe it.”

“I’ve been told she has a chance, Hannah.  Let’s keep our hopes up.  In the meantime, I want to talk to you and Hilda tomorrow about this family.  We need to get them some more permanent help.  I’m happy to take the children in tonight, and the Castle is taking Bowen’s mind off his worries, but I think they’d feel better with people they know after this.  Whatever happens, this family needs a lot of support.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Do you know anything about her family?  Does she have any?”

“I think her parents have passed, and she has a sister living somewhere else, but I’m not sure.” Hannah told him.  “I wish I could be of more help.”

 “Daeron tells me that Daffyd, the Livery Owner is a friend of the family.  What can you tell me about him?”

“Daffyd?  He was Owen’s best friend, and his wife Anna is a dear.  She’s working at the Tailor’s, over next to the Fabrics.  Their son is almost grown and works at the Livery with his Da.”

Bard nodded, as the Guard opened the door for her.  After giving instructions for her to be escorted home, he went back to their quarters to see how things were going.

Tauriel had arrived, bringing the dogs with her.  She’d taken them out for their evening constitution, and now they were giving their guests a thorough sniff.  When Thangon went over to Maddox, the little boy shrunk away in fright and jumped on the couch next to Sigrid.

“It’s all right; he’s very friendly.”  Sigrid assured him.  “See?  Bowen is petting him, see how he likes it?”

The boy was still frightened, but Thangon sat very still and waited for Maddox to relax.  After a few moments, he slowly reached out and touched the top of his head to stroke him.  Eventually, he grew comfortable enough to scratch the big dog’s ears, and when Thangon rolled his eyes and moaned, everyone laughed. 

Esta, bless her, quickly appraised the situation and went to work.  Once Maddox felt at ease with Bard’s dog, she jumped up on the couch beside the little boy and put her head in his lap.  The sheep dog’s size was more suited to the five-year-old, and Maddox was soon grinning from ear to ear as he made friends.

“I have a feeling I know where Esta is going to sleep tonight,” Bard smiled at the boys. 

“Will she stay with us?” Bowen asked. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it Mad?”

“Esta is a good nurse, Thranduil explained. “She will go wherever she is most needed, and it looks like she’s decided to look after Maddox.”

The little boy put his arms around her neck and gave the dog a hug.  “I love her!”  In response, the dog licked the little boys face and made him giggle.

 

Bard stuck his head into the corridor and saw that the servants were filling up the bathtub.  “Boys, let’s get you in the tub and ready for bed.  Tilda, you’re next after them.”

“Okay, Da.”  Tilda was kneeling on the couch beside Thranduil, helping him burp the baby.

Since the boys felt more comfortable with Bard, he helped get their things ready, then left them to it.   “I’ll be in the lounge when you’re done, so if you need me, just poke your head out and yell.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”  Bowen promised. 

In the end, they managed just fine, and were soon installed in Bain’s room with Esta in the middle.  Sigrid read to them for a little while, while Tilda sat on the stool by the fireplace, listening in.  When she was finished, the Kings came into the room to help them get settled.

“Would you like the lamp on low?” Thranduil asked, as they went in to say good night.  He was still holding the baby, who was leaning on his shoulder, sucking her thumb.

“Yes, please.” Bowen answered. 

“We’ll leave the door slightly open, so if you need anything, Esta will come and get us.”  Bard told them.  “Good night.”  

 

***************

 

After saying good night to the other children, Thranduil and Bard went to their room so he could change and fuss over their tiny guest, while his husband watched in amusement.  Thangon had followed them and watched the scene from his cushion on the hearth.

“Look at how she plays with her feet!” Thranduil laughed as the baby began to suck on her toes.  “Infants are fascinating creatures, are they not?”

“Are human babies that much different than Elflings?”

“In many ways, yes, and in many ways no.  But tiny ones from any race are enchanting, are they not?”

“I’m not going to argue with that.”

Once Thranduil was done giving baby Owena a clean diaper and gown, he wrapped her in a blanket and sat down on the bed beside Bard to sing her to sleep.

The Elvenking really did have a soft spot for the little ones; they helped him more than most would understand.  After nearly a millennium of emptiness, he craved the pure and innocent joy of children, and they helped soothe the wounds that even Bard and their family couldn’t touch.

“If I ask you something, would you promise not to laugh?” he whispered to Bard, as he watched the baby’s eyes blink as she began to fall asleep.

“You can ask my anything, love; you know that.”  Bard was leaning his head on Thranduil’s shoulder, stroking the little girl’s cheek.

“I sometimes wish you and I could have children together.  I imagine what he or she would look like: would he have light hair like me, or eyes like yours?”

“I’ve never thought about it, but if we could, I’d hope the babies would look like you.  If you want to know what I looked like as a child, all you have to do is look at Bain.”  Bard smiled.  “I think our children would be beautiful.  Just one question, though.”

“What is that?”  Thranduil kissed his hair.

“Which one of us would carry the baby and give birth?”

“Ah.” Thranduil winced.  “That is an excellent point, _Hervenn nîn._ It is good such things are the providence of the females. I doubt either of us have the courage to bring a child into this world.”

“I know I don’t.  I can’t stand the sight of blood, remember?”

Thranduil laughed.  “Alas; we must wait for our grandchildren come to us.”

“You’ll be a wonderful grandfather, love.” Bard rubbed his arm.  “Just remember to be nice and let their parents have the babies once in a while, yeah?”

Owena was fast asleep by now, so Thranduil gracefully got up and put her in the crib.  Once he covered her with a blanket, he crawled back in bed, so Bard could gather the Elvenking against his chest.

He'd never known how wonderful it could feel to be held in such a warm protective embrace!  He smiled when his Bowman draped a leg around him, and began to breathe deeply into the back of his neck.  This was the simplest of things, really, but it filled Thranduil with joy.

“Bard?”

“Mmmm,” Bard said sleepily, and kissed his hair.

Thranduil turned over in his arms and gave his husband a long, deep kiss.

“What was that for?”

“To thank you.  Every day you bring me blessings I never dreamed of, _Meleth_.  It is all such a surprise.”

Bard opened his eyes and smiled at him.  _“Ci velethron e-guil nîn, Thranduil.”_

The Elvenking rolled back over and drifted off to sleep, enveloped in his arms.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _losta-luith_ – sleeping spell

 _Hervenn nîn_ – My husband

 _Meleth nîn_ – My love

 _Ci velethron e-guil nîn, Thranduil_ – You are the love of my life, Thranduil.

 

NOTES:

The "baby bottle" is based on clay pots dating back to at least 400 B.C.  Of course, rubber hadn't been discovered or invented yet, so it was either a cloth stuffed in the spout, which was more sanitary, or pieces of leather gloves with holes poked in them, which was really hard to keep clean.  In my 'verse, these feeding apparatus were made from blown glass, and the sterile cloth in the spout was pulled out enough for the baby to suck on.

 


	4. ***Character List for "An Invincible Summer"***

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Listed in Alphabetical Order.

 

 **Adamar** – Elf. Daeron’s father; Captain of the Gates; responsible for safety of the Palace and surrounding walls. Husband of Idril.

 **Adila** \- the Blacksmith's wife, who was born in Harad, and is helping Indis look after the refugees rescued from a Pleasure House.  Mother of a boy and a girl, ages 9 and 11, respectively.

 **Aegis** – Daeron’s grey horse.  His name means “Protection.”

 **Airen** \- Female Elf from Lothlorien, who helped escort Daeron and his unit to spend the year in the Golden Wood.  Betrothed to Elion, Captain of the Guardians of the Woodland Realm.

 **Alis** – Orphan from Dale; Adopted by Feren and Glélindë at the age of five.

 **Almarë** \- Infant daughter of Ermon and Elénaril, along with sister, Calapîa, and brother, Nórimo. (Triplets, born 2nd of September T.A. 2943)

 **Alun** – father of Rhys, son of Ina, nephew of the late Iola. Widower. Used to work the accounts for the Master of Laketown.

 **Amaren** \- One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for a year.  Archer.

 **Anna** – Wife of Daffyd, who runs the Livery.  Friend of Ellyn, widow of Owen.

 **Bain** – Prince of Dale. 13 years old.  Very interested in weapons and military.

 **Bard** – King of Dale; archer, former Bargeman. 41 years old. Husband of King Thranduil.  Former husband of the late Mattie of Laketown. Gets sick at the sight of blood.

 **Ben** \- See "Old Ben"

 **Beorn** – Skin Changer; friend of Gandalf and Radagast.  Lives in Southern Mirkwood.

 **Bilbo** – Hobbit.  One of the Original Company. Had feelings for Thorin.

 **Bofur** – Dwarf.  One of the Original Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Friend of Princess Tilda and Tauriel.

 **Bowen** – Son of Ellyn and the late Owen of Dale.  Eleven years old.  Older brother of Maddox and baby Owena.  Very protective of his family – looks after him since their Da died.

 **Bron** \- Blacksmith.  Husband of Adila and father to their boy and girl.  Killed by bandits in May 2943 T.A., when their children were held hostage with the Prince and Princesses of Dale.

 **Bronwyn** – Head of Schools in Dale.

 **Calapîa** \- Infant daughter of Ermon and Elénaril, along with sister, Almarë, and brother, Nórimo. (Triplets, born 2nd of September T.A. 2943)

 **Catrina** – Wife of Roderic.  Helps husband run the Long Lake Tavern.

 **Cwën** \- One of the Galadhrim visiting the North as part of an exchange, but stayed, as she was betrothed to Lieutenant Ivran.

 **Daeron** – Elf.  Bard’s guard; speaks Westron, trained as a healer in Old Dale; helped deliver Rhian’s baby, Darryn.  In love with Rhian, but she doesn’t know it.

 **Daffyd** – Runs the Livery in new Dale.  Friend of the late Owen and Ellyn.  Husband of Anna.

 **Dafina** – Three-year-old orphan from Dale; Adopted by Feren and Glélindë.

 **Dáin** – King Under the Mountain.

 **Darla** \- Woman from Dale, and Hannah’s daughter-in-law.  Married to Jon, Hannah’s son. Mother of two.

 **Darryn** – Rhian’s baby boy, named after Daeron, who became her friend.

 **Dilna** – Dwarf.  King Dáin’s wife - Queen Under the Mountain.

 **Dwalin** – Dwarf. Trained Kili and Fili.  Becomes a friend to Feren.  Will help train Bain.

 **Egon** \- Son of Tom the Potter, new Constable of Dale

 **Elénaril** – Elven Healer; wife of Ermon, the Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm.  Mother of triplets: daughters Calapîa, Almarë and son Nórimo.

 **Elion** \- Guardian of the Woodland Realm, currently serving in Lothlórien as Daeron's 2nd-in-Command.  Fell in love with Airen, Warden of Lothlorien and engaged to be married in T.A. 2944

 **Ellyn** – Widow of Owen of Dale.  Mother of Bowen, Maddox and Owena.  Was diagnosed with a serious illness.

 **Emëldir** \- Head of Thranduil's Council in the Woodland Realm.

 **Enid** \- Widow of Dale, about 60 years of age.  Mother-in-Law to the Baker in Dale.  Shared a tent with Rhian and Gladys, in the refugee camp after the Battle.

 **Eriol** \- One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for a year.  Warrior.

 **Ermon** \- Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm.  Husband of Elénaril.  Born in Doriath - grew up with Galion and Oropher.  Was present at Thranduil’s birth.  Father of triplets: daughters Calapîa, Almarë and son Nórimo.

 **Esta** \- Black and white sheep dog.  Given to Bard's children as a gift over the Long Winter.  Serves as a nursemaid to whomever needs her most in the family.

 **Ethan** – Oldest son of Seren and Llewelyn.  Brother to Liam and Liliwen.

 **Evan** \- Newly hired assistant to Alun, Treasurer of Dale. Moved here from the East Bight to seek his fortune. Late twenties, single.

 **Farien** – Tauriel’s female cat.

 **Feren** – Elf. Commander of all branches of the Elven military. Husband of Glélindë.  Adoptive father of Alis and Dafina.  Currently living in Dale with wife and children.

 **Fînlossen** \- “Snowy Mane.” Thranduil's favorite white stallion that he gifted to Bard. 

 **Floyd** – Old Ben’s big orange male cat.

 **Galion** – Elf. Thranduil’s Chief Aide and Steward.  Father figure to Tauriel, best friend to Hilda and Percy.

 **Gandalf/Mithrandir** – Wizard; helps Bard and Thranduil get together.

 **Gerion** \- One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for the year. Warrior and 2nd in Command

 **Garon the Founder** – First King of Dale.  Established his Kingdom in the year 2432 T.A.

 **Garth** – Rhian’s late husband; died when Smaug attacked Laketown. Was a drunkard and abusive.

 **Gilfanon**  - Master Healer of Lothlórien.  Supervises Orlin and Penlod, Healers of the Golden Wood.

 **Girion** – 15th King of Dale, killed by Smaug in the year 2770 T.A.

 **Gladys** \- widow of Dale, about 59 years old.  Friend of Enid works as a seamstress with Glélindë.  Shared a tent with Rhian and Enid after the Battle.

 **Glélindë** – Elf. Commander Feren’s wife; adoptive mother of Alis and Dafina. Worked in the Tailor’s Guild of the Woodland Realm.  Currently living in Dale with husband and children.

 **Greta** \- Head Housekeeper at the Castle in Dale.

 **Gruffudd** – Grandfather of Alis and Dafina.  Missing one leg below the knee from BOTFA.

 **Haldir** \- Marchwarden of Lothorien and Daeron's commanding officer for the year.  Eldest son of Halfar, former Marchwarden, and his wife, Naimi.

 **Hannah** – Midwife from Dale; delivered Rhian’s baby.  Widow of Martyn, with three grown children.  One son lives in Dale.

 

 **Harry** \- "The Boss's" right-hand man and the head of Security for his operation.

 **Hilda** – Percy’s wife. Mother figure to the Bard’s children. Seneschal of Dale.  In charge of the Castle and welfare of Dale’s widows, poor and needy.

 **Idril** – Elf.  Mother of Daeron; wife of Captain Adamar.  In charge of the kitchens at Thranduil’s Palace.

 **Ina** – mother of Alun, grandmother of Rhys, sister of Iola.  Was horribly abused by father and sister.  Lives in the Woodland Realm under constant care.

 **Indis** – Elf.  Mother of Turamarth; wife of Captain Ómar.  Aunt to Daeron.  Works in the Palace of the Woodland Realm.  Temporary companion of Rhian, during her recovery.

 **Iola** – sister of Ina, aunt of Alun, great-aunt of Rhys.  Was driven insane by father’s abuse; murdered Ina’s husband; killed herself while being taken to the dungeons.

 **Ivran** \- Elf, and personal guard to Thranduil, bethrothed to Cwën,  Warden of the Woodland Realm, who remained in Dale after her exchange.

 **Jarvis** \- "Farmer Jarvis"  one of the livestock farmers that lives outside the City Walls.  He has sheep, cattle and goats.

 **Jarod** (aka "The Boss") - a very powerful and ruthless head of a sex-trafficking ring west of the Misty Mountains. Was killed by Bard, when he tried to murder his children.

 **Judd** \- Farmer Jarvis' oldest son, works with his father.

 **Legolas** – Elven Prince of the Woodland Realm. Born T.A. 1942; 999 years old.  Was 11 years old when Mírelen was killed. Currently traveling with the Dúnedain.

 **Léod** \- Lord of the Wold of Rohan, and Third Marshal of the Mark.  His territory borders that of Lothlorien and its nearby villages and he works together with the Elves to rescue kidnapped children from Harad and destroy their captors.

 **Liam** – Second son of Seren and Llewelyn.  Brother to Ethan and Liliwen.

 **Liliwen** – Infant daughter of Seren and Llewelyn.  Sister to older brothers Ethan and Liam. Born in the Woodland Realm during the Long Winter.

 **Lindo** \- One of the Galadhrim visiting the North for a year. Warrior.

 **Lindorë** – Wife of Oropher, Queen of the Woodland Realm; sailed to Valinor three years after Thranduil’s return from the War of the Last Alliance.

 **Llewelyn** – Husband of Seren.  Works in Construction with Old Ben.  Father of sons Ethan and Liam, and daughter Liliwen.  Thrilled that baby Liliwen as red hair like him.

 

 **Lynne** – Former maid, now owns and operates a weaving shop with girlfriend, Mona.

 **Mablung** \- Captain of the Elves and Feren's Second-in-Command in Dale.

 **Maddox** – Son of Ellyn and the late Owen of Dale.  Five years old.  Brother of Bowen and Owena.

 **Maggie** – wife of Tom, Chief Constable of Dale.  Runs the Pottery shop with her sons and their families.

 **Mattie** – (Matilda) Bard’s late wife, died at Tilda’s birth. Came from Dorwinian. Former teacher.

 **Meldon** \- Lieutenant in Captain Mablung’s unit, currently assigned to Dale.  Killed in May, 2943 T.A. while guarding the Princesses of Dale.

 **Mírelen** – Thranduil’s late wife, killed by Orcs. Killed in the T.A. 1953

 **Miriam** \- A young pregnant girl who with an abusive husband.  She and her baby were killed.

 **Mona** – Former maid, now owns and operates a weaving shop with girlfriend, Lynne.

Naimi – Mother of Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien, and wife to the late Halfar, former Marchwarden.

 **Naurmôr** – "Black Fire"  Thranduil's black stallion.

 **Neldor** – Elf. Tauriel’s birth father.  Killed by Orcs when their village was attacked and burnt down.

 **Nórimo** \- Infant son of Ermon and Elénaril, along with sisters, Almarë, and Calapîa. (Triplets, born 2nd of September T.A. 2943)

 **Nualë** \- An Elven Guard.  Female.  Recently assigned to the Castle.  Good friends with Tauriel.

 **Oin** – Dwarven Healer.  Part of the Original Company.

 **Old Ben** – City Planner of New Dale.  Rescued Rhian when Dragon came to Dale.  Widowed husband of Cristyn. Adopted Rhian and her son, Darryn.

 **Ómar** – Elf.  Father of Turamarth  & husband of Indis.  Uncle of Daeron.  Captain of a Guardian Unit of the Woodland Realm.

 **Orlin** \- A Healer in Lothlorien, who is very interested in Daeron's experience and is copying his notes.

 **Oropher** \- Late father of King Thranduil.  Killed during the Battle of Dagorlad in the War of the Last Alliance.

 **Orophin** \- Brother of Haldir and Rúmil, Wardens of Lothlorien.  Middle son of Halfar, former Marchwarden, and his wife, Naimi.

 

 **Owena** – Daughter of Ellyn and the late Owen of Dale.  Eight months old.  Sister of Bowen and Maddox.

 **Penlod** \- A Healer from Lothlorien, who was against working with humans, because his family were killed by Men.  Now friends with Daeron.

 **Percy** – Bard’s best friend; husband of Hilda.  Steward of Dale.  Kept everyone’s spirits up during the Long Winter.

 **Powell** \- son of Anna and Daffyd, who run the Livery in Dale.  Nineteen years old.  Helps his parents look after Ellyn's children.

 **Radagast** – Wizard; helps the forest. Friend of Beorn.

 **Rhian** – Young widow from Dale; abused by her husband, Garth, while pregnant Daeron saved her and baby Darryn at birth.

 **Rhys** – son of Alun, grandson of Ina.  Bain’s best friend; stayed with Royal Family in Thranduil’s Palace during the Long Winter.

 **Roderic (Rod)** – Runs the Long Lake Tavern in Dale.  Stayed in the Woodland Realm over the winter while he recovered from his injuries from the Battle of the Five Armies. Husband of Catrina.

 **Rúmil** \- Warden of Lothlorien, who is spending a year in the Woodland Realm/Dale.  Brother to Haldir and Orophin; youngest son of Halfar, former Marchwarden, and his wife, Naimi.

 **Ruvyn** \- Elf.  Guard to Thranduil, and friends with Tilda.

 **Sandastan** \- Turamarth's dun-colored horse.  His name is a type of military shield formation.

 **Sellwen** \- A child Daeron deeply bonded with when he was serving in Dale under King Girion.  When she and her mother were killed, Daeron suffered a breakdown from the loss.

 **Seren** – Wife of Llewelyn of Dale.  Mother of sons Ethan and Liam, and daughter Liliwen. Gave birth to her youngest in Thranduil’s Palace.

 **Sigrid** – Princess of Dale; 16 years old.  Daughter of Bard and Mattie.  Stepdaughter of Thranduil. Wants to be a Healer.

 **Solana** – Tauriel’s mother.  Killed by Orcs when Tauriel was very small.

 **Tauriel** – Elf. Thranduil’s foster-daughter.  Bard’s stepdaughter.  Born in the year 2324.  617 years old.

 **Thangon** – “Shield Wall” Bard’s humongous dog, given to him by Thranduil.  Goofy, but will protect the Royal Family with his life.

 **The Boss** \-  see “Jarod.” 

 **Thranduil** – Elvenking of Mirkwood. 3,847 Years old. Born in born in S.A. year 2537.  Husband of Bard, King of Dale.  Step-father of Sigrid, Bain and Tilda.  Former husband of the late Queen Mírelen.

 **Tilda** –  Princess of Dale; Daughter of Bard and Mattie.  Stepdaughter of Thranduil. Seven years old.  Suffered severe illness over the Long Winter and is still delicate; must not overexert herself – her heart is still a bit weak.

 **Tim** \- A Cooper (barrel-maker) that moved to Dale last February from parts unknown.  He was secretly spying on the Royal Family in Dale for "The Boss" (who went by the name of "Jarod," in the City.)

 **Tîrevan the Archer** – Goran the Founder’s Great-Grandson, and fourth King of Dale.

 **Tom** \- Owns the Pottery shop in Dale along with his wife.  Father of three sons.  Was recently hired to be Constable of Dale, along with his eldest son, Egon.

 **Trip** \- Part of a syndicate that ran "Pleasure Houses" in the city of Duston, before the Dwarves rescued the children and killed most of them.  Their ears were cut off and were branded criminals.

 **Turamarth** – Elf. Daeron’s cousin and best friend.  Son of Ómar and Indis.  Learned to speak Westron over the Long Winter.  Lieutenant in the elite Guardian Unit of the Woodland Realm.

 **Vórima** \- The strawberry roan horse that Turamarth bought for Bowen to help pull him out of his depression.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daeron takes some much-needed down time and spends his day off confiding in a friend, hoping to ease his troubled mind. 
> 
> As we eavesdrop, we learn a great deal about our beloved Guard and the story of his time in Dale, serving under King Girion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Trigger Warning***.  
> This contains domestic violence that ends in tragedy, so if this is something you are sensitive to, please, skip this chapter...

“To me, you were more than just a person. You were a place where I finally felt at home.”   
― [ **Denice Envall**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8506917.Denice_Envall)

 

 

**City of Dale; Morning, 18 th of July 2942 T.A. **

It was Daeron’s day off, and he was headed toward the forest outside the city walls of  Dale to spend some time with a large oak that was a particular favorite of his.

 

Ermon was right to make him step away from the mother, Ellyn, yesterday.  The Chief Healer and Elénaril knew of his propensity to become deeply involved with his patients, and while they found it an admirable quality, they also cared about him enough to protect him from himself, sometimes.

These boundaries were a balancing act for any good Healer, but for Daeron, it could be especially difficult, due to his unique gifts and his sensitive nature.  Both Ermon and Elénaril remembered the shape he was in after his return to the Woodland Realm, when the abused wife and unborn child had been killed.  King Girion had written to Thranduil back then, very concerned about the despair the young Guard found himself struggling with, so Daeron was immediately summoned back to the Palace but not before the Elvenking met with the Chief Healer to ask him to keep an eye out for his young Guard. 

Of course, the Healers agreed; none of them had encountered an Elf who was equally gifted with such military skill as well as a natural gift of Healing.  They knew there was something special about this Elf, and understood that the gifts he possessed could also be a burden to him, if he was not careful.

To almost everyone else, a career in both the Martial and Healing arts would be diametrically opposed to one another, but to him, they blended perfectly – they were who he was, and he could never choose one over the other. Luckily King Thranduil was kind enough to see this exceptional blend of talents and encourage it. 

 

Daeron smiled when he found his tree, placed his hands on its trunk to greet it.  _“Órenya linda tye-cenien,”_ he said, _“Ma alwa nát?”_

The large tree’s branches sang in the breeze and it graciously lowered a limb.  “Thank you, _Doron_.  I am in need of comfort, and your listening ear today.”

The Elf grabbed the limb and easily made his way near the top and settled against the trunk with a loud sigh.  He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting the leaves surround him with a loving touch.  This tree reminded him of one he’d loved as a child.  Every Elf in the Woodland Realm grew up with such a special friend in the Forest, though his and many others had been put to sleep by Radagast when they became sick.  He mourned the loss of companionship then, but he hoped that the day would come when it would awaken and remember him once more.

In the meantime, this lovely, strong Oak was a wonderful steadfast friend. He was the keeper of Daeron’s deepest secrets, and lately, he had many thoughts and worries that plagued him.

 _What is wrong?_   _Doron_ asked wordlessly. 

So, Daeron did what he always did, when he sat in its branches, and talked to him, the way Silvans do.   _I am in love._

_That is wonderful news.  What is her name?_

_She is a woman from Dale named Rhian._

_From the race of Men?_

Daeron nodded.   _I love her_ _and there is nothing I can do about it.  She does not return my feelings, and it is increasingly difficult to bear._

 _I am sorry,_ Oak swayed in sympathy.   _Yet, I think there is_ _more that troubles you, my friend._

The Elf said nothing for a minute or two, then opened his mouth and said out loud, “Sellwen has been on my mind a great deal, of late...”

_Sellwen?_

“She was someone I knew a long time ago.”

 _Tell me about her,_ the tree suggested.

~o0o~    

 

 

 

 

>  Daeron remembered the day he was called into his King’s office after he made the rank of Lieutenant, and Thranduil told him that he would not be promoting him further. 
> 
> Daeron was taken aback.  “Have I displeased you in some way, My Lord?”
> 
> “Not at all, Lieutenant.  Consider your father’s duties, if you would: Captain Adamar is Keeper of the Gates, and spends a great deal of his time at his desk with administrative tasks and overseeing the scheduling for his unit, does he not?”
> 
> “Yes, he does, _Aran nîn_.”
> 
> “Adamar is a credit to my Realm, and there is no one better suited to a job like his, but I do not think you are meant for such things.  I have never seen gifts quite like yours, and I want you to be free to utilize them freely.” Thranduil smiled.  “So, you see, by not promoting you, I am doing you a favor. Unless, of course, you wish be stuck behind a desk as much as your father?”
> 
> Daeron thought about it.  “No; I would not.  In fact, I think I would loathe it.”
> 
> “Then it is settled.  Continue your training under Elénaril and do what you do best.”
> 
> So Daeron did just that, and began his life serving his people.
> 
> For many years, he traveled with his Guardian unit around the Woodland Realm, going from Village to Village helping to defend them, and treating their injuries.  Elves did not suffer from illness, but in a forest plagued with Orcs, Wargs and Spiders, there was no shortage of work to be done or lives to that needed to be saved.
> 
> Since the Woodland Realm had become so sick, it was especially important for _Ellyth_ to have the proper care while carrying their young.  Silvan Elves did not give birth nearly as much now, and their connection to the forest made pregnancies delicate, so extra precautions were needed.  Many times he accompanied a pregnant Elleth to the Palace to give birth there, when he “sensed” that the darkened aura of the trees made the baby’s _fëa_ unhappy. 
> 
> After a while, as the forest-sickness spread, it became a standard practice for an expectant couple to simply make the journey to the Palace gates, the moment they knew they were expecting. While this made a lot of Daeron’s work obsolete, he was only glad that the babies were safe.
> 
> Then, in the year 2432 T.A. a man named Garon, the youngest brother of the Prince of Dol Amroth, came into the area and established the Kingdom of Dale.  Every chance he could, Daeron would visit the new Kingdom and delight in the architecture and enjoyed the company of the Men who settled there.  He loved the sights and sounds of this bustling city, and whenever he heard the bells ring, marking the noon hour and sundown, he would stop, close his eyes and listen to their simple melody.   Dale began to be known far and wide as the “City of Bells,” and their song became famous.  Words were put to the melody and sung by the schoolchildren throughout the centuries, and soon it became tradition for everyone to sing it on holidays and festivals.
> 
> Many Elves in Middle Earth thought of the Second Born as an inferior race and refused to give them no more than a fleeting glance, but Daeron had never understood or agreed with this idea.  Humans were delightful, fascinating creatures!  Men certainly had their pitfalls and weaknesses, but Daeron was at once enchanted with their easy affectionate nature with their loved ones, and the contentment  they found in the simplest of moments.
> 
> Yes, their lives were fleeting; mere minutes to the life of the Eldar, but was that such a terrible thing? Elves were Immortal, and because of that, too many of them took the passage of time for granted, and never thought to look at each moment as something precious.  Too many of them died through injury or grief and went to the Halls of Mandos never knowing how to treasure the minutiae of their days like the race of Men did, and when Daeron closed the eyes of every Elf he couldn’t save, he grieved for their loss of opportunity.
> 
>  
> 
> In the year 2569 T.A., Tîrevan “the Archer”, Fifth King of Dale (and Garon’s third great-grandson), wrote to Thranduil and asked if an Elven Healer could come to Dale to help treat his people.  They had suffered a particularly difficult bout of the flu, and he was hoping the Elvenking might help prevent another such epidemic.  Daeron heard of the summons and went to his King, ready to beg for the job, but there was no need - Thranduil had already chosen him.
> 
> He was eager for the chance to learn about the many illnesses that plagued these frail humans, and to make a significant difference in their lives!  Within three days, Daeron had packed his things, said goodbye to his family, (and promised to write often) and moved to Dale.
> 
> Over the decades, Daeron made many friends, and his medical skills increased a hundredfold as he learned all about the workings of the human bodies, but, of course, the best part was all the babies. 
> 
> Humans gave birth much more frequently, and had bigger families than Elves, so here was a chance to gain experience, in this area of medicine.  There were many differences between their races as far as gestation and development.  Elves carried their babies for twelve months, and did not suffer from things such as morning sickness or eclampsia, or gestational sugar-sickness.  Daeron was eager to learn about these things, and to offer ways to combat them, and thanks to the Elf, many babes were born healthy that might have otherwise died.
> 
> When he first arrived, the mothers of Dale were aghast at the idea of an Elf delivering their babies, and a _male_ Elf at that - it simply wasn’t right; this was women’s business!
> 
> “Be patient,” King Tîrevan encouraged him.  “They’ll come around.”
> 
> He was thrilled the first time he put hands on a woman’s swollen belly and found he could “connect” with the babe just has he had with the Elflings. 
> 
> _“Ni veren an gi ngovaned, Tithen Pen!”_ Daeron laughed, when he greeted the first unborn human baby.  The child kicked and rolled merrily and seemed happy to meet him, too.  It was a boy, he predicted, and of course, he was correct.
> 
> Word began to spread, and after a few years, he was the midwife of choice in the Healing Hall.  
> 
> When more time had passed, everyone deferred to Daeron in these matters, and his practice exploded.  Daeron was a familiar sight walking the streets at all hours of the day and night, bringing the new citizens of Dale into the world. He encouraged fathers to be present to support their wives during the process, as was usual practice with the Elves, and while admittedly some fainted and had to carried from the birthing room, that program was a also a success.  Better sanitation protocols drastically reduced infections, and deaths from puerperal fever were now a thing of the past.
> 
> There were even more benefits to having an Elven Healer.  When babies weren’t positioned right, or the cords were knotted, he was able to urge things this way or that to get things straightened around.  For a particularly painful or troublesome delivery, he quickly put a _losta-luith_ over the mother, to ease the way.
> 
> Daeron’s greatest challenge was convincing the Healers in Dale that women were not necessarily given a death sentence if there were complications: he was trained to remove the child through an incision in the abdomen.  They vehemently opposed the very idea, but when one poor mother was facing death, the terrified frantic father consented to the procedure, and all was well.  Soon, this became an accepted practice and many lives were saved. 
> 
> But despite his best efforts, none could prevent the occasional loss, and the people of Dale found sensitivity and compassion in their Elven midwife, when arms remained empty, and they were grateful.
> 
> Naturally, there were those who assumed Daeron ‘s gentle demeanor, and his choice of specialties in the Healing Arts meant that he was physically weak, or “soft” (usually by fools who lacked confidence in their own masculinity, with mouths fueled by too much ale).  Those confrontations didn’t last long, and often ended with the aggressor up against the wall by his neck, as the Lieutenant administered a lesson in courtesy and respect.  Daeron didn’t neglect his martial skills, and his sparring sessions in the practice ring almost always drew a captive audience.  This Elf was _no_ _one_ to be messed with.
> 
> He was happy with his life in Dale; he enjoyed his work, and he loved the babies - every one of them.  Most would kick with glee during regular checkups, and by the time the babies were born, they were as eager to meet him as much as their their mothers, and looked at him with knowing eyes, at the sound of his voice.
> 
> Then came the day when he met the child who broke his heart.
> 
> A pregnant woman had been brought in by a neighbor over her objections.  The woman was covered in bruises, so he addressed the wounds first, which obviously caused her pain. 
> 
> “I know who you are.  You’re that Elf that knows babies.”
> 
> “I am.” He took her hand in both of his and rubbed it.  “What is your name, _hênig_?”
> 
> “M-Miriam, sir –“
> 
> “That is a lovely name.  My name is Daeron.” He continued to rub her hands, and asked very gently.  “Can you tell me what caused these marks, Mistress?” 
> 
> “I fell down the stairs,” she said warily. “It was an accident.  Is my baby hurt?”
> 
> “Let me bring you some relief from the pain, and then I will tell you.”  He placed his hands over her arms, legs and face and sang the swelling down, and eased the inflammation. 
> 
> “Can you follow my finger with your eyes, please?”  He moved it up and down and back and forth, and paid special attention to the swollen one.  “Does your head hurt at all?”
> 
> “Not anymore.  Thank you.” She wouldn’t meet his glance. 
> 
> “That was a rather nasty set of steps you fell down, Miriam.”
> 
> “Yes.”  Her voice was flat, emotionless.  “Is my baby all right?”
> 
> “I will check in just a moment, but I need to get some salve for your eye, first.”  Daeron smiled.  “I will be back shortly.” 
> 
> He left the room and went to the Master of the Healing House.  “I need to see King Girion right away.  I’ve got a pregnant woman I suspect has been beaten by her husband.”
> 
> Master Gilim out his breath.  “I know who you’re talking about.”
> 
> “She’s been brought in before?”
> 
> ”Aye.  You haven’t seen her, because she wasn’t pregnant the other times.  The older man shook his head sadly. “Check her...  everywhere, if you get my meaning.”
> 
> ”You mean he has -“
> 
> ”Raped her?  I sure he has before, but we could never prove it.  I’ll send for the King, and we’ll give her every chance at help, but short of imprisoning her, we can’t force her, and if she won’t name him...”  He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.  “Damn,” he whispered. “As terrible as it sounds, I almost hope you can find something.”
> 
> The Elf went back to her room and sat on the bed facing her.  “Miriam, I have not seen you before this, and you are nearly six months along.” He told her.  “I am concerned that you are not getting the proper care.”
> 
> “Oh, my husband says I don’t need it.  He tells me what to eat, and everything, and he doesn’t like me being out.”
> 
> “Why is that?”
> 
> “He says I’m too clumsy and I’ll hurt myself.”
> 
>  He looked down at her intently, for several minutes.  She was terrified and unhappy, but perhaps if he gave her something to hope for, it might give her the courage to face the truth of her situation.
> 
> “Miriam, I would like to do a thorough examination; will you permit this?”
> 
> She didn’t know what to expect.  “Will it hurt?”
> 
> He smiled.  “I will be as gentle as possible.”
> 
> “I’d like that.” She said softly.
> 
> Daeron distracted her with idle chat, while he checked, and found no evidenceof brutality (praise the Stars),then put a pillow under her knees.  “Please lie still, and try to relax, and we might discover whether you are having a boy or girl.”
> 
> “You can do that?””
> 
> “I can.” He smiled, then took a couple of deep breaths and placed his hands on her belly...
> 
> ...his heart leapt and his body felt like he’d been struck by lightning.  Quickly he removed his hands and opened his eyes in surprise.  In all the years he’d “met” infants like this, none had made him react so strongly. 
> 
> “Is something wrong?” Miriam looked at him, frightened. “What’s wrong?”
> 
> “I am sorry." he said absently.  “I did not mean to frighten you; let us do this again.  Relax and close your eyes, please.”
> 
> Daeron nervously placed his hands on her, and once again, the child’s _fëa_ slammed into him, but he kept his hands in place and allowed the feeling to wash over him. 
> 
> There was nothing to be alarmed about - the opposite, in fact.  Daeron felt wave after wave of pure and utter joy.
> 
> The girl child turned her heart to him, and reached out, as if she’d been looking for him, and he realized he’d been looking for her, but until this moment, he hadn’t known it. 
> 
> _Is it you?_ The babe asked wordlessly.  _Are you the One?_
> 
> _Yes…_ his heart answered, though he couldn’t begin to understand the question.  _It is me.  I am here…_  
> 
> He didn’t know it, but many minutes had gone by, and there were tears face. 
> 
> Miriam was frightened.  “You’re crying!  Something’s wrong; I know it!”
> 
> Daeron was startled back to himself. “I am sorry to worry you.  There is nothing wrong, my dear lady.  Daeron struggled to compose himself.  “Your young daughter is healthy.”  He laughed and wiped his tears on the sleeve of his tunic.  “She is...  very special.”
> 
> ”A girl?  It’s a girl?”
> 
> “She is a beautiful little girl, Miriam.” He kept his hand on her stomach and smiled. “I’m happy for you.”
> 
> Just then there was a loud knock at the door, and Miriam looked at Daeron nervously, and shrank back.
> 
> “Miriam!  Are you in there?”  It was a man’s voice.  “Miriam!”
> 
> Daeron looked intensely at the woman.  “You do not have to see him, if you do not wish to.”
> 
> “I –“
> 
> There was no time to respond before a well-dressed man burst into the room, carrying a large bouquet of flowers.  “There you are!” he said with artificial charm.  “I’ve been looking all over for you!  Is everything all right?”
> 
> The man went over to the table and put his arm around his wife’s shoulders with an iron grip, but spoke to her in cloying, honeyed tones.  “Well, I’m glad to hear you went to the Healers’ dear.  I knew you’d hurt yourself sooner or later, you silly egg.”
> 
> He turned to address the Healer, and the smile instantly left his face. “You’re an Elf.” His lip curled with disdain.
> 
> “I am,” he said, coolly.  I am Daeron, and I have healed your wife’s injuries and was examining your unborn daughter.”
> 
> “You’re a man.” 
> 
> “A male Elf, yes.” He corrected the husband matter factly.
> 
> The husband gritted his teeth and gave his wife a withering look. _“You let another man touch you?”_ He demanded.  _“AnElf?”_
> 
> “I’m sorr-“ Miriam became frightened, and Daeron took a step closer to the man, just in case.
> 
> The husband caught Daeron's narrowed eyes, and the phony smile was instantly in place again.  “Oh, that’s all right.  I know you didn’t mean to upset me, did you, my dear?”  He handed her the flowers.  “I saw these and thought of you.”  The saccharine voice grated Daeron’s nerves. “Oh, sweetheart; look at you.  You shouldn’t have walked all the way here in your condition!  You need to let me take you home and look after you, darling.  I’ll make you a special dinner, then put you straight to bed.  We don’t need this…” the man looked in Daeron’s direction.  “Haven’t I been taking good care of you?”
> 
> “How did your wife get those bruises?”  Daeron stood a half-a-head taller than him and wasn’t frightened in the slightest.  This man was a weak, spineless fool, as is the case with most bullies who take their frustrations out on someone weaker than themselves.
> 
> “It was her own fault of course; she’s clumsy, and trips over her feet all the time,” he said in a sing-song manner. “Isn’t that right, Miri?”
> 
> “She could have been killed,” Daeron told him, “and the child - _your child -_ could have died!”
> 
> The Elf noticed her wince, as the man’s fingers dug into her shoulder.  “Get your hands off of her!” He shouted. “This _instant!”_
> 
> The man’s face turned red with embarrassment and anger, and Elf grabbed his arm and yanked it off his patient.  He easily held it, as her husband struggled to get away, and the Elf stared him down for several long minutes, while Miriam writhed in emotional agony. 
> 
> King Girion arrived just then, accompanied by two of his guards, and Daeron let go, but continued to stare at him.
> 
> “My Lord!”  Instantly the man’s countenance changed.  “You’ll have to excuse my wife for all this fuss.” He simpered.  “I do my best to keep her out of trouble, but you know how it is with these silly females; you turn your back for a second, and disaster strikes.”
> 
> “Roald.  Why am I not surprised?”  Girion crossed his arms.  “I am told your wife came in here covered in marks.”  The King of Dale looked at Miriam.  “Could you tell me what happened, Mistress?”  Girion took in the sight of her rounded belly, and looked at Daeron in alarm, than back at Ronald. “Your _pregnant wife_ is covered with bruises?”
> 
> “I… fell down a flight of stairs, My Lord.” Miriam was near hysterics.  “Daeron was just making sure the baby is well.”
> 
> “And is it?” the King asked the Elf.
> 
> “She is a girl-child, and remains healthy, My Lord, blessed be the Valar.”
> 
> “I will speak to this woman alone.” The King declared.
> 
> “But My Lord –“ Roald went pale.  “She is fine, and I do not –“
> 
> “Alone, Roald.  Out. Now.  Don't make me have the Guard escort you.  Daeron, you will remain.”
> 
> ”Yes, My Lord.”
> 
> The man made a big show of kissing his wife on the cheek.  “I love you sweetheart, and I promise everything will be all right.  We’ll be so happy; you’ll see.”  And he left the room, but not before looking daggers at the Elven Healer.
> 
> King Girion went over to the young mother and took her hand.  “Your name is Miriam, am I right?”
> 
> The woman trembled.  “Yes, My Lord.”
> 
> “Please don’t be frightened; you are not in any trouble.  I simply want to be sure all is well with you.  I don’t see you much in Dale.” 
> 
> “I…  like to stay home.  And I haven’t felt well since the baby.”
> 
> “I understand.  The Queen would often become sick when she carried our five children.  Did I tell you Daeron, here, helped her deliver them all?”
> 
> “No; I didn’t know that,” Miriam looked at the Elf with wonder.
> 
> Girion grinned.  “Why, just last year, he brought my first grandchild into the world.”
> 
> “A young Prince,” Daeron smiled.
> 
> “He even helped my mother give birth to _me_ , if you can believe it,” he smiled at the girl. “And my father before him - in fact, my friend has presided over every birth in the Royal Family of Dale for over ten generations.  What do you think of that?”
> 
> “Really?” She gasped. "But he looks so young!"
> 
> “Aye. He’s much older than he looks.” Girion winked at her.  “How old are you, Daeron?”
> 
> ”1,818 years, My Lord.”
> 
> Miriam gasped. _“Really?”_
> 
> “So you can trust my word that you and your babe are in excellent hands with Daeron, here.”  Girion waited a moment, then probed her gently. “Tell me Miriam; are you certain all is well in your home?  Roald is not harming you, is he?”
> 
> She swallowed, but didn’t say anything.
> 
> Girion probed further.  “Is it true you fell down the stairs?”
> 
> “What?”  She looked at him with wide eyes.
> 
> “I asked you a question, and I want the truth from you.”
> 
> “M-my husband is right.  I’m clumsy.”
> 
> “Ah.  So you are in _no_ danger, then?” he looked her carefully.  “No one has hurt you purposely?”
> 
> “It is my fault, My Lord.  It was an accident.” She didn't meet his eyes.
> 
> “Miriam,” the King said kindly, but firmly, “it’s a very serious offense to lie to your King.  Are you _sure_ there is nothing you need to tell me?”
> 
> The poor woman grew so pale, she looked like she was going to faint.  Her breathing became shallow and rapid, and Daeron had to put his hands on her to urge her body to calm. 
> 
> “You must be careful not to get too upset, Mistress.  It can be harmful to the baby.”
> 
> “Please!”  She was getting upset again.  “You don't understand; Roald loves me!” She began to cry.
> 
> “Shh…” the Elf soothed her. “We only want to help you, _Hênig.”_
> 
> “Miriam, my gut instinct tells me there is more to this story, but I can only go by your word.  I can't compel you to stay here, but I hope you can trust me or Daeron to tell us, if you feel unsafe in any way.” Girion looked at her for a few moments, then stated, “I want to make sure you suffer no further...accidents, so I’m ordering you to come to the Healing halls to see Daeron every three days.”
> 
> “I don’t think Roald will like that –“
> 
> The King smiled and patted her hand. “You leave Roald to me.  In the meantime, you will come here every three days, so Daeron can examine you and make sure you and your baby are healthy.”
> 
> “But—“
> 
>   “No buts.” He said gently.  “Your child is also my subject, and her safety is my responsibility.  And Miriam, if for any reason you are in danger, I promise we’ll help you.   Can you trust me?"
> 
>  Miriam looked alarmed, but nodded.
> 
> “Please, my dear Lady, think about what I said, and look after yourself," the King said gently.  “Think about how you and your baby deserve to be safe.  That’s all I ask.”  The King patted her hand, then walked toward the door.  "Please wait here, while I speak to your husband about your new treatment plan."
> 
> “Oh, gods…  no…” 
> 
> Daeron took her hand.  “It will be all right.”
> 
>  
> 
> After that day, Miriam faithfully appeared on time at the Healing Hall for examination.  The husband clearly didn’t like it, but he wasn’t stupid enough to defy his King (Roald was told that if she didn't come, someone would come and get her, and she would be examined each visit, and they found even the tiniest mark, he’d be arrested).
> 
>  At first, Roald demanded to be present in the room, but the serendipitous presence of a King’s Guard put a stop to his histrionics, and the care of the young mother and child proceeded without further incident. 
> 
> After that, she came by herself, which everyone saw as a step toward breaking free of the man.
> 
> Daeron looked forward to seeing Miriam, but if he were honest with himself, he counted the hours until he could “see” the child again.  Every time he put his hands on Miriam’s belly, his heart began to pound with excitement and eagerness, and when the little girl’s _fëa_ sensed him, she waved her tiny arms and legs with joy.  He thought about her constantly, and looked forward to the day when she would enter the world and he could meet her face-to-face.
> 
> What was it about her?  He must have asked himself this question a thousand times, but there was no way to understand.  All he knew was that she had instantly found and filled a place in him he never knew was empty.  He thought about writing to his mother or his aunt, but for some reason, he hesitated.  Maybe he was afraid this was all an illusion, and if it was, he didn’t want the bubble to burst.  It didn’t make sense, really, but he couldn’t take the chance of losing something so precious.
> 
> She was in her eighth month, nearly two weeks from her due date, when Miriam came for her checkup.  The sun was shining bright, and her cheeks were rosy.  “Hi, Daeron!  I decided to walk, today.  I hope it's all right.”
> 
> He greeted her with a grin and praise.  “The walking is good for you, and will make your labor easier.  Have you been doing the exercises I showed you, and practicing your breathing?”
> 
> ”Aye!”
> 
> “Do you have a name for the her?” He helped her onto the table and urged her to lie down.
> 
> “Not yet.”  Miriam smiled.  “I’ve got a couple in mind, but Roald says to wait to make sure she’s not a boy.”
> 
> “He doubts me?”
> 
> “Oh, he just wants a son so bad he can taste it.  Once he sees her, he’ll love her; I just know it."
> 
> “You think so?”  Daeron changed the subject.  “What are the names you like?”
> 
> She laughed and shook her head.  “I want it to be a surprise.”
> 
> “Ah.  Well, you look healthy, and all seems to be well with our little girl.  She is eager to see this world we live in.”  He palpated her abdomen carefully.  "Her head is in perfect position...  She has ‘dropped,’ have you noticed?”  
> 
> “Aye, come to think on it.  I can finally take a deep breath, and she’s not kicking my ribs.”
> 
> ”I am sure she is sorry about that,” the Elf laughed, then closed his eyes and touched her _fëa._
> 
> “Ooh!  She really loves you, Daeron.” Miriam giggled.  “She does cartwheels every time you touch my belly.”
> 
> “This little one is very special to me, too.”
> 
> ”I know.  You should see look on your face. I can’t describe it.”
> 
> The Elf said nothing, but smiled with happiness; this tiny being completed him in a way he’d didn’t think was possible.
> 
> “What can you tell me about her?”  Miriam asked.  “Can you ‘see’ what she looks like?”
> 
> He put his hands on her belly again.
> 
> _It is you…_
> 
> _It is me.  Are you well today?_
> 
> Several kicks and rolls was his answer, which made both him and Miriam laugh.
> 
> _You are funny today..._ He said, then told her mother. “Our girl likes to suck her thumb, I see...  She does not have much hair...”  He was silent for a moment, as he listened.
> 
> More kicks and rolls.  _I love you... I want to see you._
> 
> _Soon, Meleth mîl.  I love you, too.  Your mother cannot wait to meet you..._
> 
> _I love her._
> 
> _Soon, child.  Very soon you will see us._
> 
>  
> 
> After Miriam left, Daeron’s mood was elated.  “Maybe the husband has changed, and it will be well for her and the child,” he said to the Master. 
> 
> “No, lad.”  He told Daeron sadly.  “I’d love nothing more than to be wrong, but these things go in cycles; they always do.  It’s the ‘Honeymoon’ phase, you know.  Things are fine, wonderful, in fact, and just when the poor woman begins to trust her life again,” the Master gave him a grim look, “something sets a bastard like that off, all Mordor breaks loose.”
> 
> “Miriam seems happy and relaxed with me, now.  She is becoming stronger.”
> 
> “That’s why Girion ordered her to come so often,” the Master said. “Roald knows you’ll tell the King if you suspect he has raised a hand to her. I hope your friendship will help her look beyond the prison she’s in.”
> 
> “Prison?”
> 
> ”There’s no physical bars on these windows, but they’re real, all the same, Daeron.  Roald’s got that poor girl’s head in such a state, she can’t understand what’s real.  That’s why she’ll lie through her teeth to protect him, you see.  He’s got her thinking she can’t live without him.”
> 
> “I cannot begin to comprehend how anyone could do this.”  Daeron shook his head. “We do not have such problems in the Woodland Realm.”
> 
> “Be grateful for that.”  The Master smiled.  “Don’t think King Girion has turned his back on this, though.  He’s had people watching Roald like a hawk, and at the first sign of trouble, he’ll put that bastard in chains once and for all.”
> 
> “I know about that,” Daeron confessed.  “I hope it is enough.”
> 
> “All we can do is our best, son.”
> 
> Daeron was fully aware of the watch put on Roald, because he’d spent many nights with the Dale guards himself, looking and listening outside of their home for any sign of trouble.  He knew it seemed obsessive to watch her on his off-hours, but he couldn’t help himself.  His urge to protect the woman, _to_ _protect_ _the_ _child_ was so intense, it kept him awake at night.  It was cathartic to give purpose to his anxieties.
> 
> He had planned to join in the watch that very night, and perhaps if he had...
> 
> Instead, he had been called to the Healing House to help a patient deliver twins, and it was not an easy birth.  She was a tiny woman, and her boys were good-sized.  He considered surgical births if it became necessary, but in the end they’d managed to bring the children into the world safely. 
> 
> Daeron straightened up and stretched his back muscles, washed his hands, then walked out to the waiting area to speak with the distraught father, who had been sent out to wait, after he became dizzy.
> 
> The husband ran over to him, grabbed his hand and shook it before the Elf had a chance to say anything.   Then Daeron found himself enveloped in a tight hug.  “Thank you!” 
> 
> “Congratulations.”  He laughed.  “You wife wants to introduce you to your new sons.”
> 
> “My sons…  We have sons...  I'm a father..." The man went a little pale, then took off like a shot for his wife’s room.
> 
> Daeron was still toweling off his hands, when the door burst open and three Guards ran in.
> 
> One of them was carrying Miriam.
> 
> _Oh no…  no, no, no…  Oh, please…_
> 
> “What happened?” he ran over and took in the sight of her bloodied head.
> 
> “We were on the other side of the street watching the house, when he came in late.  He’d been drinking, so we went to the door to listen better, and at the first bit of noise we kicked it in, but…”
> 
> “But _WHAT?”_   Daeron screamed.  **“ _What_ _happened_?”**
> 
> “He picked her up and threw her over the upstairs bannister, Daeron.”  The Guard had tears on his face.  “I tried to catch her, or at least break her fall, but... she landed on her head…  I think her neck is broken.  I’m so sorry.”
> 
> _No...  Please..._
> 
> “Get her in the first room!” he instructed the one holding.  “You!” he addressed second Guard.  “Get the King up at once!” 
> 
> “We’ve sent for him, already.”
> 
> After ordering the third Guard to get the Master, he ran to Miriam’s side.
> 
> “Oh, Stars...” the Master said, softly when he came in. “That dirty bastard...”  The man quickly examined her head wound.
> 
> “Shh!”  Daeron had to take three deep breaths, to calm down and put his hands on her belly.
> 
> He found signs of life, but they were quickly fading.  Her little heart was slowing and her movements slowed to almost nothing.
> 
> _Help me..._ She wordlessly pleaded, and reached out for him.
> 
> “Daeron, Miriam is already dead.”
> 
> “If I can deliver the child now, she might live!  Hurry! Make ready!” he cried.
> 
>  “What?” the Master asked, incredulous. "You can't -" 
> 
> _“We have to try and save the child!”_   He quickly went to grabbed some clean instruments. 
> 
> “It the baby still alive?”
> 
> “Barely.  We might have time.”  He quickly made the incision in Miriam’s stomach and the Master stepped to his side to retract the organs to get the baby out.
> 
> In less than three minutes, they had her on the receiving table, and both of them frantically worked to clear her airway.  He listened for her heart.  Nothing.  Quickly put his lips over her mouth and nose and blew two soft breaths into her lungs, then massaged her chest with two fingers, and began to pray silently. 
> 
> _Please… You cannot leave me now, before I have had a chance to look into your eyes...”_
> 
> After several minutes, he stopped and listened carefully.  Nothing.  He gave her two more breaths, and continued to massaged her heart.
> 
> After a while, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
> 
> “Daeron…”  the Master said.
> 
> “Please…”  Daeron didn’t realize he was talking out loud. “Please do not leave yet… 
> 
> “I think she’s…”  the Master began, but the Elf shoved him away and continued his desperate ministrations.
> 
> “ _Dhen iallon, Elbereth Gilthoniel, de nestad...”_ Daeron’s urgent prayer filled the room.  _Athodh de nestad annin?  Dhen iallon…  Dhen iallon!”_
> 
> “Daeron...  Son…”
> 
> He shook his head defiantly, and refused to heed the voice at his side. 
> 
> “The child is gone.  I’m so sorry.”
> 
> _“Law!  Law! Law…”_ He babbled over and over, and the tears were streaming down Daeron’s face and his hands shook, but he tried with all his might to will the baby’s heart to beat once more.  “It is not true!  It is not!  Please… Do not leave me…” His voice became a whisper as the Master gently pulled his hands away. Two assistants rushed into the room, and were quietly  asked to clean up.
> 
> Still, the Elf could not give up.  He angrily yanked his hands free, and kept up his ministrations.
> 
> “Come with me, Daeron,” the Master Healer urged, and put his hands on his shoulder.  “You need to sit down.”
> 
> _“No!”_  Daeron shook his arm free. “I _have to_  help her!” 
> 
> The grip on his arm tightened painfully, and Daeron’s turned to see the worried expression on the Master’s face.
> 
> “Daeron,” he whispered.  “You can’t save her; you’ve been trying for the last hour, son.  She’s gone.”
> 
> “But, you do not understand; she cannot…  She…” Tears were still running down his face and he shook his head. “I… have to.  I have to.”
> 
> One of the assistants, a middle-aged woman named Wynne came over and put her arm around him.  “Come on, Daeron.” She said in a soothing, motherly tone. “We need to get you cleaned up and let them take care of things.”
> 
> “I _have to save her...”_ the Elf looked at her with pleading eyes. “Could you help me?”
> 
> “Of course I’ll help you, sweetheart.” She smiled.  “I want to help you both.  Now, tell me what I can do to make this better for you.”
> 
> “She must be  cold…”  He grasped at possibilities. “If we get her warm again, she will wake for us.”
> 
> The woman and the Master exchanged wide-eyed looks.  At his nod, Wynne took a soft blanket and gently wrapped the child up.  “Here, now, nice and toasty.  How’s that?”
> 
> “I need to have her.” He held his arms out for the baby. “I cannot leave her.”
> 
> “Well, of course you can’t, dear.” She handed the little bundle to him and took him by the elbow.  “Let’s bring her into the other room, and we’ll get you both cleaned up, then you can hold her all you like.”
> 
> In a daze, and clutching the child to him, the kindly woman guided the distraught Elf into an empty birthing room next door, and sat him down in a rocking chair. 
> 
> “I’ve got some warm, soapy water here, and we’ll have you good as new in no time...  Give me your arm, love.  That’s it; just the one arm.  You don’t have to let go, see?”  Wynn spoke in soft, calming voice, as if Daeron himself was a babe, and kept up a light, cheerful chatter, to keep the Elf’s hysteria at bay.  “I just want to get this dirty tunic off you...  Come on, now... Now switch her over and let me have the other hand...” She managed to get his bloody garment over his head and began to wash him carefully. 
> 
> “The warm water feels good doesn’t it?”  Wynn said with a kind smile.  “Everything’s better when we’re clean and dry, isn’t it?  Daeron?  Do you feel better, love?”
> 
> He nodded dumbly, still looking down at the small form in the blanket.
> 
> “Now, let’s get your other arm… then we’ll get you into some clean clothes I’ve got right here...”
> 
> The woman managed to get him changed, without him letting go of his precious bundle, then put a basin of clean, warm water on the table beside him, along with soft soap and towels.  “Do you want some help giving her a bath?”
> 
> "I will do it."  Daeron shook his head.  “She will feel better when she’s clean and dry, like you said.”  Daeron look at Wynne with a tearful smile and a thin, faraway voice.  “You are right: if we can help her be clean and warm...”
> 
> “Would it be all right if I sat here with you?”  She asked him quietly. “We’re a little bit worried about you, dear.
> 
> He looked at her with a puzzled expression.  “Why?”
> 
> Wynne sighed, and shook her head sadly. “Tell you what. I’ll sit next to you, and hand you the things you need; you don’t have to let her go, all right?”
> 
> “Thank you.”  Daeron told her. “She needs to stay with me, so I can protect her.”
> 
> “I know, love.” Wynn’s wiped her eye, and rubbed his back.  
> 
> Daeron laid the bundle on his lap, opened the blanket.  With the soft, soapy cloth he gently washed every part of the tiny child. He marveled over her, and kissed her tiny fingers and toes. Daeron smiled as he traced the outlines of her mouth. “She is so beautiful...  Everything about her is perfect.”
> 
> “She’s lovely, Daeron.  Anyone can see how much you care about her.”
> 
> ”I love her, Wynne.  I have from the moment I met her...”
> 
> ”Of course you do.” Wynn’s stroked his hair.  “This wee one is all could you talk about for months, and your face lit up like the sun, every time Miriam came to see you.”
> 
> At the sound of the woman’s name, he looked at Wynne. ”She is dead, you know.”  Daeron said, simply. “Roald killed her.”
> 
> ”Shhh... I know.  Let’s not think about that right now.”
> 
> Daeron looked at Wynne for a moment in confusion, then smiled at the baby as he touched the little nose. “She is innocent, Wynne.  She needs me.”
> 
> ”I know that, too, dear.”  Wynne kept rubbing up and down his back to keep him calm. “It’s wonderful, the way you looked after them.”
> 
> ”I have to, because...” Daeron’s eyes spilled over, as he caressed her little head.  “I have to be here when she opens her eyes, and then I know everything will be all right.”
> 
> “Shhh...  I understand, love. You’ve got her nice and clean so how about giving her a new blanket, and we’ll take the dirty one away.  “She’d like that, wouldn’t she?”
> 
> He took the cloth she held out to him, and swaddled her. 
> 
> “You sit and relax, Daeron,” she sighed and stroked his auburn hair.  “I’m going step outside for a minute.  Can I get you something, dearie?”
> 
> He shook his head as he felt the older woman kiss his head, before she left.  Then Daeron smiled and began to sing as he gently rocked her.
> 
>  
> 
> Wynne stepped into the hall, and the Master came up to her and whispered, “Miriam has been cleaned up and covered.  The King will be here, once he’s got Roald sorted.”
> 
> “What are they going to do with him?”
> 
> “Take him to the dungeons, for now.  The King is arranging an emergency Court tomorrow morning, to read the charges.  We must attend to give evidence." The Master had a grim look.  “King Girion will make that monster pay.”  He jerked his head toward the room where Daeron and the child were. “How is he?”
> 
> “He’s in a bad way.” Her eyes filled with tears.  “The poor boy’s shattered, and I’m frightened for him.“  Wynne wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “Daeron’s lost patients before this, and I’ve seen Mams fall apart, when their wee ones don’t survive, but this...” She looked at the Master. “What was so special about this little girl?”
> 
> “If what I suspect is true,” he gave Wynne a sad look,  "Daeron has lost a lot more than a patient, and that Elf is worse off than either of us can know.”
> 
> “He’ll be all right, won’t he?”
> 
> The Master sighed.  “I don’t think so, Wynne.”  After a comforting pat on the woman’s shoulder, he went out to wait for Girion.
> 
>  
> 
> ***************
> 
>  
> 
> In the darkened room, soft humming could be heard. Daeron rocked her gently, as he caressed the baby’s tiny head in the palm of his hand and continued the song his mother used to sing to him when he was very small.
> 
> “Daeron?” A gentle voice said his name.
> 
> He looked up and saw King Girion’s silhouette in the door way, watching him closely.
> 
> “My Lord,” he said.  “Please excuse me for not getting up; she’s sleeping.”
> 
> “I see that.” The King stepped into the room, and looked at the child.  “She’s beautiful, Daeron.”
> 
> ”She is perfect.”
> 
> ”You love her.”
> 
> “I do; very much.” He gave Girion a serene smile.  “She is mine, you see.  The moment I met her, my _fëa_ knew her, and she knew me.”
> 
> ”Really?” The King regarded the Elf with furrowed brows. "You mean..."
> 
> The Elf nodded.  “It happens like that sometimes; Elves often encounter the one that is meant for them in childhood, and marry when they reach their majority.” He smiled.  “She _knew_ I was her One.  She knew it!”
> 
> ”She is not an Elf, Daeron.”
> 
> ”That is why I did not understand it at first, but it is not unheard of, if you recall Lord Elrond’s parentage.” Daeron laughed and shook his head.  “It was such a wonderful surprise, when I first met her, My Lord.   She is my One, you see.”  Daeron looked serenely into Girion’s face. “Elves love only once, and... she is my bond-mate.”  He beamed with happiness, and began to rock and hum again. 
> 
> “I remember now,” the King told him. “When I was young, one of my tutors was Elven.  He taught me a great deal about your people.”
> 
> He stopped his humming and looked up at Girion.  “Miriam is dead, did they tell you?”
> 
> “I know, Daeron.  I’m sorry for that.” Girion paused, not quite sure how to proceed.  “Wynne and the Master are worried about you.  I came to see if you are all right.”
> 
> The Elf held his gaze for a moment as he struggled internally, but then shook his head slightly, turned back to the child, and resumed his rocking. “I need her to stay here with me.”  He stroked her cheek with his finger. 
> 
> “Daeron...” Girion got down on one knee in front of the Elf and looked up into his face.
> 
> “My Lord, I _really_ need her to stay with me...” his voice was child-like.
> 
> ”I know you do, Daeron.  But -“
> 
> The Elf shook his head and held her tighter.  “Please...  I need her to -“
> 
> _“Mellon nîn_ , please, look at me.” The King spoke softly and put his hand on the Elf’s arm.  “She is gone.  The child is dead, and I am more sorry than I can say.”
> 
> The Elf wrestled with the King’s words.  “That is not true. When she wakes, she will open her eyes, and -“
> 
> “I’m sorry, Daeron, but this child is not going to wake up.  She is no longer alive, and I need you to try and understand that.”
> 
> “You are mistaken. It is Miriam who was killed.  She -”
> 
> ”I wish with all my heart I was mistaken.”  Girion met his eyes again. “I know you can feel the souls of these little ones—“
> 
> ” _Fëas.”_
> 
> “Yes.  I want you to tell me if you feel her _fëa._   Can you look for me, and tell me what you find?”
> 
> ”I do not need to.” The Elf’s voice wavered. “She is just sleeping.”
> 
> ”I think you do.” The King whispered softly.  “Please, my friend.  Just look for me.”
> 
> ”I...  do not think I want to.”
> 
> ”I understand, Daeron.  But I think you need to try.”
> 
> ”Please...  Do not ask me to do that.  She has to stay...”
> 
> Girion squeezed his arms.  “I need you to try for me, and I’ll be right here with you, all right?  Just try.”
> 
> Daeron stared at his face for several minutes, then slowly put his hand over the child’s chest.  
> 
> “That’s it.” Girion encouraged.  “Now, close your eyes, and tell me what you see.”
> 
> The little body was perfect and beautiful, but still and silent. And empty.
> 
> ”No...” the Elf’s face started to crumble, and he shook his head.  "No..."
> 
> “I’m sorry, but it’s time to let her go, now.”  The King raised a finger and silently signaled for Wynne to come into the room.
> 
> ”I cannot do that.” 
> 
> “Yes, you can, Daeron.”  He gently put his hands over the Elf’s.  “Come on...  Look at me, Daeron, and we’ll do this together... that’s it...  Keep looking at me..."
> 
> “Please, do not make me do this." Daeron begged him, and his breathing became ragged. “Please...”
> 
> “I’ll help you...”  Slowly and carefully, he loosened the Elf’s fingers. “I’ve got you, my friend, I’m right here...”. His eyes didn’t leave the Elf’s face, as he took the child from him.  Wynne reached her arms down to take her, then quietly left.
> 
> Then Girion’s eyes filled with tears as he watched his friend fall completely apart.  Daeron double over with a horrible, guttural cry, that began as a low moan, but increased in pitch and volume, turning into a long, agonizing keen that sliced into the hearts of everyone who heard it.  Many eyes closed and offered a prayer for that poor, suffering soul.
> 
> “No... No...”  At last, Daeron’s mind allowed him to feel the raw, bleeding wound from the _Rista-Goeol,_ when her _fëa_ had been ripped away. 
> 
> _“Goheno nin,_ _Tithen Pen_." he pleaded, as he felt the King's arms support him.   _"_ _Ai, Goheno nin… Goheno nin; law agóren gi meriad...”_ The Elf buried his face in the crook of Girion’s elbow, and sobbed. _“Natho nin…  Ú sen caucol…_ _Ai, Ni nathathodh, Elbereth Gilthoniel…  Ni, nathathog, Bereth vuin?   Den ú-chenion.   Natho nin chenion;  Ni, nathathog    Ú sen caucol; Ú…"_  His sobs and prayers went on and on.
> 
> From the hallway, the Master of the Healing House watched his King weep for their Elven friend, as he collapsed in a his arms in a crumpled heap.  Girion held him tight and murmured soothing words as Daeron sobbed and prayed in Sindarin.  
> 
> The Master quietly closed the door to give them privacy, went into his office and wept for his colleague and friend.
> 
>  
> 
> The King of Dale sent an urgent message to Lord Thranduil, then arranged for Daeron to be brought to a guest suite near his rooms in the Castle, where he received round-the-clock care.  
> 
> Three days later, Daeron was seated in a dressing gown by the window, next to a tray of untouched food, when there was a knock on his door. He didn’t have the heart to answer, but after a moment, he heard the knob turn, and a visitor entered.
> 
> “ _Suil, Gwador,”_ Turamarth came into the room and sat down on the edge of his bed.  “It is good to see you, _Mellon,”_ he said in a quiet voice.
> 
> Daeron looked at his cousin and friend with empty eyes.  “You have come to take me home.”  
> 
> “I have.”
> 
> ”I am glad you came.”
> 
> ”I wanted to come.”
> 
> “Does King Thranduil know?”
> 
> ”He sent me to look after you.  We are all worried for you,  _Gwador.”_
> 
> ”I lost her, Turamarth.“ he closed his eyes. “I am doomed to a life of bereavement before my bond-mate ever took her first breath.  I will not fade, but how can that be any kind of comfort?”
> 
> “I do not know the answer to that, _Mellon.”_   Turamarth looked at him with love and concern.  “I am very sorry.”
> 
> “How can one grieve like this, yet still live?” Daeron asked desperately.  “How can my heart be in such pain, and yet it does not kill me?  I feel like my _fëa_ has no home anymore; I am lost and bleeding inside and I do not know what to do.” He put his head in his hand and began to weep.  “She was taken from me, before I could see into her eyes, yet I still love her with all my heart.  I do not understand why this happened, Turamarth.”
> 
> Turamarth went over to kneel by his chair. “Must you understand it?” He asked gently, as he rubbed Daeron’s back.  “Will it hurt any less if you do?” 
> 
> “Perhaps.”  Daeron swallowed, and looked out the window again. “Perhaps not.” He hugged himself, as the tears continued to flow. “Thank you for coming.”
> 
>  “They hold a funeral tomorrow, for Miriam and the child.”
> 
> “I would like to attend.”
> 
> “I think you should.”  Turamarth regarded his cousin carefully.  “We will do that together. I have spoken with Lord Girion; he told me of the husband’s execution.”
> 
> “Roald is dead?”
> 
> ”Yesterday.  The man paid for his abuse, that much I will tell you."
> 
> ”Good,” Daeron said, then sighed. “Nothing will bring them back, Turamarth.”
> 
> “I am sorry about that, _Mellon nîn._ I really am.”
> 
>  “King Girion asked me to give the baby a name.  For the gravestone.”
> 
> “That was nice of him.  What did you choose?”
> 
> _“Sellwen.”_
> 
> “‘Daughter of Joy.’  I like it.” Turamarth gave him an encouraging smile and got up.  “We must get you dressed, and I will take you for a walk outside in the fresh air.” He pulled Daeron up to stand.  “After that, I am going to make sure you eat a good meal and I will help you sleep some.  And on the morrow, I will stand by your side, as you say farewell.”
> 
> “Thank you,” Daeron whispered, as his cousin hugged him.  When he began to feel dizzy, Turamarth kept a firm grip on his elbow.
> 
> ”It is well, _Gwador;_  lean on me, until you are strong once more.”
> 
> So he did.
> 
>  
> 
> After his return to the Woodland Realm, Thranduil left Daeron to his family’s care, but kept a close eye on his progress.  His mother and father were supportive and made sure he looked after himself and ate enough.  For several months, Ermon came in the evenings and administered a _losta-luith_ to make sure he slept.
> 
> Turamarth hardly left his side, and made him go riding when he didn’t feel like it, or dragged him to the archery range, put a bow in his hands, and badgered him until he started to shoot, just to shut him up. He sparred with with Daeron to near-exhaustion, to physically work through his grief, his rage, and his despair.
> 
> Aunt Indis looked after him, too, as she always had, when it came to matters of the heart.  She would stop by his rooms and take him walking through the forest or the flowering gardens, and gently encourage him to speak about the tragedy.  It took a long while, but eventually he opened up.
> 
> “I could have saved her, Aunt.  I could have forced Miriam to leave her husband, but instead, I let her go, and sent to her death..” he swallowed.  “She never would say who had hurt her; she only would say she fell down some stairs, butI should have found a way to keep her from going back there.”
> 
> “Were you sure it was the husband?”  asked Indis.
> 
> “I could prove nothing - and she refused to say. But I knew.  _We all knew.”_  
> 
> “Instincts are not evidence in a lawful court,  _Gwathellion._ Were there any witnesses?”
> 
> “The only time anyone witnessed his violence was when Miriam’s neck was broken.”
> 
> “It was the woman’s choice to remain, Daeron.”  Indis reminded him.  “Lord Thranduil was given a detailed report of the incident, and holds you blameless.  King Girion has expressed his deep regret for their loss, and he feels terrible for your sorrow.”
> 
> “But _I knew_ she was in danger!   _I_ could have been there.”
> 
> ”At the time, you were helping another mother through a dangerous birth.  Can you honestly say you would walk out on that woman and her twins, knowing they could die?”
> 
> He swallowed and remained silent.
> 
> “You are not to blame.  In any case, this was King Girion’s judgement to make, not yours, and you do not have the power to reverse his commands.  I honestly do not think Girion is to blame, either.  From what I have learned, he took extraordinary measures to protect the mother and child, within the confines of the law.  Sometimes, Daeron, despite all we do, terrible things happen.”
> 
> “It wasn’t Sellwen’s choice to be in such danger!  She was an innocent...” his throat tightened, “...she never had the chance to take her first breath.”  Daeron sat down on a stone bench and put his face in his hands. “I am so angry, Aunt.  Sometimes... I hate Miriam for not leaving that monster.”
> 
> ”I was told she had no family, and this husband isolated her from any friends she had.  He made her believe she had nowhere else to go.” Indis rubbed his arm.  “Let me ask you this, Daeron: do you truly think Miriam did this purposely?  That she _wanted_ to endanger her child?”
> 
> ”No,” he sighed.
> 
> ”I think Miriam knew no better, _Gwathellion_.  She was young and hopeful, and only wished for what we all want: a life she could have faith in, someone who would love and protect her, and a home where she could feel safe.  Sometimes a person clings to these wants  _too_ desperately, and cannot see clearly.”
> 
> ”I do not understand situations like that,” He admitted. 
> 
> “Who, of any race, can comprehend such deliberate cruelty?  Even those of the race of Men hardly understand such things.” Indis shook her head.  “And your bond with Sellwen was powerful?”
> 
> “Yes!” He clenched his fists.  “Her  _fëa_ sang a song I’d never heard, yet somehow, I knew the words...    When I first touched her _fëa_ , it was instantaneous, a lightning strike; so powerful and wonderful, and...  I can’t describe it.”
> 
> “Ah." Indis smiled knowingly.  "It is the _Ehtë Raumo_ you speak of.  It was the same when your Uncle Ómar and I first met.  I thought my heart had stopped...” she smiled and nudged him with her shoulder.  _“He_ fell off his horse, did he ever tell you?”
> 
> Daeron nodded, and couldn’t help his small smile.  “It was just like that.  I know you might think it was not as real or strong because she was not an Elf, but...”
> 
> ”I think no such thing.” She assured him. “Had things been different, I would have supported your choice.”
> 
> ”Even if we had married?”  Daeron looked at her. “Even if I was no longer immortal?”
> 
> ”I only want your happiness.”  Indis put her arm around him.  “I think in time, things will be all right, _Daeron.”_
> 
> “No, Aunt, they will not!  It can _never_ be! She was of the race of Men, and has gone to a place I cannot follow.  I will never see her in Valinor, nor even in the Halls of Mandos!”  He looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “And I am left with this...” he rubbed his chest, “empty place, and it hurts so much...”  
> 
> Indis had no answer for that, so she gathered him to her bosom and held him tight as he cried.  “Oh, _hënig_...”
> 
> “What do I do?  I loved her, Aunt.” he swallowed hard, then whispered.  “What does the Ilúvatar do with a soul of Men who was never given a chance to be born?”
> 
> “I do not know, _Gwathellion_.” She kissed his hair. “Someday, you may have the answer, but for now, you must grieve your loss, and try to move on.”
> 
> ”Move on?”
> 
> ”l know it does not seem possible now, but there will come a day when your pain will ease, and the memory of her will bring a smile to your face.  Is that not why you named her _Sellwen?_   Now you only feel loss,but one day you will think of her and remember why you named her ‘Joy.’”
> 
> “I will never be the same, again.” He whispered.
> 
> “No,” Indis stroked his hair and kissed his temple.  “You will not.” 

~o0o~

It had been over 170 years since _Sellwen’s_ funeral, and in time, Aunt Indis’ words became truth. 

Knowing Sellwen _had_ changed him, as all joys and tragedies do.  Everything about him was _more_ , because of her:  his strengths were stronger, his weakness were weaker, and he could not tolerate injustice of any kind.  He often wondered if it would have been better if he’d never encountered her - it certainly would have saved him years of anguish – but he realized he would never want that. 

His loved ones worried for him for a long time, and King Thranduil has been protective of him since then, but that was all to the good.  The Valar and Eru made him the way he was for a reason, and he tried to believe his gifts could still give him some purpose.

He may never know why they wished Sellwen to meet him, but in time, he understood that her death was not something they caused; the only one to blame was the man who murdered them.  Once he realized this, he found his faith again.  He eventually learned to accept what could not be changed, let go of the pain, and remember her with the peace his Aunt had promised, that day in the garden.

Then, he returned to Dale last November, and tried to help a young girl carry some water.  And his soul was touched and he was in turmoil, again.

 

By the time Daeron finished sharing his story with _Doron_ the Oak, the sun was low in the Western sky. 

 _That was a sad tale,_ Oak told him with a thoughtful wave of its branches. _But beautiful, too._

“It is.”  Daeron leaned his head against the trunk thoughtfully.  “She is a part of me, and despite everything, I am glad of it.”

_What will happen with this girl, Rhian?_

A sigh.  “I wish I knew, _Mellon_ _n_ _î_ _n_.  Again, I love someone I cannot have, and I do not know what to do.”

_Trust in Eru Ilúvitar, my friend.  Trust in Yavanna and the Queen of the Stars to help you._

“I honestly do not know if I can, _Doron._ If I am to be set up for another cruel loss, why should I try to survive it?  I want to have faith; I really do, but...”

_I am here for you; always ready to listen._

Daeron nodded, then sat up straight, swung down the many limbs and branches, until he landed gracefully on the ground.  

 _Farewell..._ The leaves rustled merrily. _Come and see me soon..._

Daeron smiled thoughtfully, and gave the trunk a friendly pat, before he turned and headed for home. 

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS (Alphabetical Order):**

**_Athodh de nestad annin?  Dhen iallon…  Dhen iallon!_** – Would you please heal her for me?   I beg of you…  I beg of you!

 ** _Dhen iallon, Elbereth Gilthoniel, de nestad..._** – I beg you, Varda, Queen of the Stars, heal her…

 ** _Doron_** – Oak Tree

 ** _Ehtë_   _Raumo_**  – (Q.) Lightning Bolt  (lit. “Storm Spear”) Sometimes, when an Elf first encounters his or her bond-mate, they can feel a powerful, emotional response, like lightning.  (It doesn’t always happen – Thranduil felt it when he first saw Mírelen, but she did not return his feelings at first.)

 ** _Goheno nin, Tithen Pen_** – Forgive me, Little One. 

Daeron’s Lament: _**Ai, Goheno nin… Goheno nin; law agóren gi meriad...  Natho nin…  Ú sen caucol…  Ai, Ni nathathodh, Elbereth Gilthoniel…  Ni, nathathog, Bereth vuin?   Den ú-chenion.   Natho nin chenion;  Ni, nathathog    Ú sen caucol; Ú…**  _ \- Oh, Forgive me…  Forgive me; I did not protect you…  I cannot bear this burden…  Help me...  Please help me, Queen Elbereth… Would you please help me, beloved Queen?  I can’t understand it.  Help me understand; please, help me.  I cannot bear it; I cannot...

 ** _Gwathellion_** \- Nephew (lit. “Sister-son”)

 ** _Law!  Law!  Law…_** -  It’s not true!  It’s not true!  It’s not true…”

 ** _losta-luith_** – Sleeping Spell

 ** _Ma alwa nát?_** – (Quenya) Are you well?

 _ **Ni veren an gi ngovaned, Tithen Pen!** –_ I am happy to meet you, Little One!

 _ **Órenya linda tye-cenien**_ – (Quenya) My heart sings to see you

 ** _Rista-Goel_** \- “Terrible Severing,” when the _fëa_ of a bond-mate dies.  Since Daeron and Sellwen were not joined in marriage, it wasn’t potentially fatal, but agonizing nonetheless.

 ** _Suil, Gwador_** – Hello, my (sworn) brother

 

  **NOTES:**

—I know that Tolkien wrote the plural of _Fëa as “Fëar_ _,”_ but I’ve chosen to spell it with an “s.”

In the world of the Eldar, many Elves meet their bond-mates in infancy, and any such relationship is treated with delicacy and respect.  Sexuality is never even considered until both parties reach their majority.  To do otherwise, would be considered abuse or rape, and this act could cause the death of an Elf’s _fëa._ Daeron loved this baby, yes, but with a pure and noble heart.  

This chapter is **not** written in a sexual way.  If any reader finds this story between Daeron and Sellwen titillating or stimulating, please go elsewhere and undo any bookmarks or subscriptions on your way out.  I despise any type of pedophilia and refuse to have anything to do with anyone who doesn't.  

This phenomenon is spoken of in Professor Tolkien's writings: 

 

 

> "Marriage, save for rare ill chances or strange fates, was the natural course of life for all the Eldar. It took place in this way: Those who would afterwards become wedded might choose one another early in youth, even as children (and indeed this happened often in days of peace); but unless they desired soon to be married and were of fitting age, the betrothal awaited the judgement of the parents of either party." --[J.R.R. Tolkien](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/J.R.R._Tolkien), [Christopher Tolkien](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien) (ed.),  _[Morgoth's Ring](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Morgoth%27s_Ring)_ , "[Part Three. The Later  _Quenta Silmarillion_](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/The_Later_Quenta_Silmarillion): (II) The Second Phase: Laws and Customs among the Eldar"
> 
>  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after Bowen and his siblings spend the night in the Castle. Some issues are settled, but they still must wait for answers to other important questions.
> 
> Thranduil and his Tithen Pen have a fun day together...
> 
> ...and our Kings have a fun night. 
> 
> The Elf Thing is back, folks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alert: Hilda has decided her appearance in my little story isn’t enough, and has been sighted outside of AO3! (Haven’t a CLUE how she did it, but I’m not surprised.)
> 
> You might want to check out hanany’s reader comments at the end of CH 1 of “And Winter Came...” And after CH 2 of this story — the woman gets around!!

 

 

“I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and hear the songs in my hands.”   
― [ **Francesca Lia Block**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9072.Francesca_Lia_Block), [ **Dangerous Angels**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/990480)

 

**City of Dale; Morning, 18 th of June 2942 T.A. **

Bowen hardly slept that night, but King Bard’s big dog sat beside him and nudged his arm, to have his ears scratched.  When he started to cry, Thangon jumped up on the bed and settled beside him, so he could bury his head in the fawn-colored fur to muffle his sobs.

He was frightened for his Mam, and worried about his brother and sister.

But mostly, he missed his Da so bad he could hardly breathe.  

~o0o~

 

 

 

> Da was big and brave and strong.  He was funny and loved to laugh, and could make everything better.  Even though they hardly had enough to live on in Laketown, Da and Mam made it feel like riches. 
> 
> When the Dragon came, Bowen knew Da would keep their family safe.
> 
> “Da?” When he shook him awake,  Bowen sat up and rubbed his eyes.  Mam was running to and fro, and throwing things in burlap sacks as fast as she could.   
> 
> “Get up son, and grab all the blankets from the bed.” Da said.  Bowen had never heard his father use such a tone, before, but if he did what Da said, it would be all right.
> 
> “Mad?” Da shook his brother, who was sleeping next to him.  “Come on, lad; get up.  I want you both to dress in as many layers as you can, and hurry!”
> 
> In minutes, Da had their skiff loaded with as many essentials as they could grab.  Then he covered his wife and small son with blankets then soaking another one in water.
> 
> “Maddox, look after your Mam.  Bowen, if the flames get near us, take that and throw it over them and get underneath and don’t come out, no matter what you see or hear, do you hear me?”
> 
> ”Yes, Da.”
> 
> ”Maddy, cover your ears and don’t let him look, Ellyn.  Bowen grab your pole and help me; we need to move, fast!”
> 
> Bowen would never forget that night: the screams, the heat of fire, and the black shadows against the bright flames.  He’d never forget how the Dragon’s roars were so loud, they made the water shake from the noise.
> 
> “Look!”  Da pointed up at the bell tower.  “Bard’s going to kill it!”
> 
> Bowen didn’t know him personally, but _everyone_ in Laketown knew who Bard was.   He was kinder than the Master, and helped folks when he could, Da would say.  Sometimes, when an extra helping of meat was on the table, his parents would be thankful, because Bard had sent it.  Once, when he was really sick, Mam told him Bard had gathered some Feverfew along the Forest River, and it helped him get well.
> 
> The night of the Dragon, Bowen saw the man for the first time, but even then, he didn’t _really_   _see_ him.  He saw a darkened figure silhouetted against an orange sky.  He saw a tall, impossible hero with bow in hand, and though he almost as wonderful as Da.  And he wasn’t scared, because he knew they would look after him.
> 
> But on the 23rd of November, Bowen learned that even someone like Da was was no match for the Orcs, when they invaded Dale.
> 
> He learned what it was like to have the bottom fall out of your life. 
> 
> He learned that _nobody_ could cheat Death, when it came to call. 
> 
>  
> 
> In a curtained enclosure in the Healing Tent, Owen said his goodbyes.  When Bowen got up to follow his Mam and brother, Da grabbed his hand and asked him to stay.
> 
> “You’re the man of the house now, my son.”  He told him.
> 
> “I don’t want you to go, Da,” Bowen sobbed and put his head down.  “Please, get better, Da.  Make them save you.  You can’t leave…”
> 
> He felt his father’s hand on his head.  “I’m sorry, Bowen; I don’t want to leave you either.  It’s not what I ever wanted, for any of us, but life is like that, sometimes.  I know it’s not right to put so much on your shoulders, but I need you to be strong for me.  Your Mam will need help with your brother and the  _babinod,_ Bowen, and I can’t be there, so I’m counting on you.  Can you to do this for your Da?”
> 
> Bowen lifted his tear-stained head, and nodded.  “I’ll try,” he promised.
> 
> “That’s my boy.”
> 
> “I’ll miss you so much, Da.”
> 
> “I’ll miss you, too, more than I can say.  I’ll be watching over you, best I can.  If you need me, look up at the stars, tell me your troubles, and I’ll ask Ulmo to send you help.  Remember that.”
> 
> “I will.” Bowen nodded and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
> 
> “Now, kiss your Da and go take your Mam and Mad home.”
> 
> “I want to stay,” Bowen begged.
> 
> “No, son.  You want a good memory to keep for all your days.”  Owen let go of his hand, and crooked his finger.  Come closer, love.”  Bowen stood and put his face near.
> 
> “I cherish you, Bowen.”  Owen smiled and put hand on his cheek.  “Every man prays for a son he can be proud of, and you’ve been that, and more.  I want you to grow up and be a good, kind man, and do what’s right.”
> 
> “I promise.” 
> 
> “When we see each other again, I’ll be waiting with open arms, and I want to hear all about the life you made for yourself.  Now, give me a big smile, so I can take it with me.”
> 
> Bowen kissed his father’s cheek and gave Da his best smile.  “I love you, Da.”
> 
> “And I love you, my beautiful boy...” Owen’s breath caught in pain, but kept his composure.  “Run along now.  Your Mam and brother are waiting.”
> 
> Bowen walked through the curtains, just as a black-haired Elf entered, holding a cup.  Despite what Da said, he turned and watched, and he saw the Healer help his Da drink, then stroked his brow.
> 
> “This will ease your journey, _Mellon_.  Rest now.” When Da’s eyes closed, the Elf stood over him, raised his palms to the sky and prayed, _“Savo hîdh nen gurth, a govano i nothrim în ah i mellyn în mi Mannos”_
> 
> Bowen’s last memory of his Da was a good one; he never forgot peaceful look on his face, as his soul left Middle Earth forever. 

 ~o0o~

Since then, Bowen often talked to his Da, when the Stars came out.  Just last week, he opened his bedroom window, and looked up at the night sky.  Then he tearfully told Da how Mam was sick, she just wasn’t getting better, and he didn’t know what do do anymore.

Da must have told Ulmo about it, because yesterday, his little brother twisted his ankle in the Park, and made two new friends: an Elf Healer, and the great Bard himself, Dragonslayer and King of Dale.

 

***************

 

Owena woke up frequently - the goat’s milk didn’t agree with her, so Thranduil rubbed her tummy and walked her, then lay her down on the soft warmth of his stomach to soothe her, as he softly sang. He eased her swollen gums from the tooth that was coming in, and when a rash appeared on her bottom, he woke Bard up and asked him to hold her still.   Owena stared up at him, as he spoke the words in Quenya, as the soft light surrounded them, and when she was finally comfortable, she snuggled into him and slept.

“You’re going to have to teach me how to say that stuff, one of these days,” Bard said, as he yawned.

“Shh…  I will, but not now.”  Thranduil smiled at him.  “Go back to sleep.”

 

When Bard went into Bain’s room the next morning, both dogs were crowded on the bed with their guests.  Maddox looked cute curled up next to Esta, but Bowen’s face was red, and his cheeks were still wet with tears.  He was hanging tightly on to Thangon, who bore it with patience and sympathy.

“Good boy,” he whispered, and scratched his ear.   When Esta raised her head, he smiled and said, “Come on; let’s roust the troops.”

 

They were all seated around the breakfast table, and Thranduil was feeding the baby some porridge from her tiny spoon, when Hannah came in with some mother’s milk.

“We’ll give her half and half for a little while and see how that works.”  She prepared the mixture, and soon, the baby was settled in Sigrid’s arms, eating away, so _Ada_ could eat. 

“She’s taking to the bottle better than I thought she would,” the midwife remarked.  “Not all babies do that.”

“Come on, lad; I know you’re hungry.”  Bard nudged Bowen, who was watching his brother and sister.  “Food tastes a lot better when it’s hot, you know.”

Bowen looked down at his plate of eggs and ham as if he’d only noticed them, and soon began to devour it. 

“Are we staying here for good?”  Maddox asked them.

The Kings were silent, as all the adults at the table looked to one another. 

“I’m not exactly sure how long you’ll be here, son,” Bard answered carefully, “but don’t worry - we’re going to looked after you and your Mam as best we can.”  He smiled and changed the subject.  “It’s a bit early to visit your Mam, so maybe Sigrid and Tilda could take you to the barns, to see the horses, would you like that?”

“Can Esta come with us?”

“I think she’d like that.”

Maddox looked up at Bard.  “Can you come?”

“I wish I could, but King Thranduil needs to look after your sister, and I’ve got work to do.  Dale is still a new place, and it takes a lot to get it up and running.”

Tauriel came in to breakfast just then, with her long hair braided down her back. 

“Good morning _Gwinïg_ ,” Thranduil returned her greeting.  “Would you take the children to the barns this morning?”

“Of course.  We could go for a ride, if you like.”

“Could we?”  Bowen sat up straight and his face brightened.  “Really? Daffyd lets us pet his horses sometimes, but I’ve only ridden one twice.”

“Of course!” Tauriel grinned. “We’ll stop and pick up Bain and Rhys, too.  They find any excuse to be in the saddle.”

“What about me?”  Maddox asked, wide-eyed.  

“You could ride in front of me, or Rhys.”  Sigrid looked over Owena’s head.

“You boys should learn to ride.” Thranduil assured them.  “Dale is not like Laketown, and horses are a part of your lives now.”

“Daffyd’s horses are big and heavy.”  Bowen said. 

“The horses at the Livery are bred to haul wagons, carriages and such.  The farmers will also rent them, to plow the fields.  Our children’s horses are made to ride.”

“Are they mean?” Mad was wary.  “Daffyd has one horse who likes to bite, and we’re not allowed near him, when we visit.”

“Perhaps we need to send an Elf over to talk with him.” Thranduil said.

“Our horses are friendly.” Tilda told them.  “The Elves trained them, so they won’t let us fall off.” She began to giggle.  “Except when _Ada_ was little, but that was because he told a fib, and rode his Da’s horse, when he wasn’t allowed.”

“I don’t know this story.”  Bard looked at his husband with a wicked smile. 

 “My Mam says fibbing is bad,” Maddox said, as he looked up at the Elvenking.

“Your mother is correct, child.” Thranduil smiled at him. 

“Did your Da spank you?”

“He did not have to –“ the Elvenking began.

“- because the horse did it for him!”  Tilda howled. 

She told them all the story she was told she first came to the Palace.  

“…and he landed with his face in horse poo!” she could hardly get the words out, and was grabbing her stomach.

“When the horse went to find my father,” Thranduil admitted to Bowen and Maddox.  “Feren and I were in a lot of trouble.”

“Isn’t he Alis’s Da?” Maddox said.  “He’s a Elf.”

“He is.  Feren and I were naughty Elflings a long time ago.”

Bard was glad to see the boys feel more at ease.  “Come on, gang,” he got up.  “You kids go have fun.”

“Lord Bard?  Can Thangon come with us?”  Bowen asked him shyly.

“Oh, sure. Just don’t let him roll around in anything that smells.”  Then he leaned down to whisper conspiratorially in the boy’s ear.  “And whatever you do, don’t let Lord Percy feed him.”

“Why?” the boy whispered back.

“Because he likes to make the dog fart and stink up the place.”

“Who, me?”  Percy was the picture of innocence, “I’d never do that!” But his wink to the boys told a different story, which made them both laugh.

“‘Commode humor’ seems to be a common pastime amonng young boys, _and_ Elflings.”  Thranduil rolled his eyes.

After the children took off, Bard and Percy went into their office to get some work done, and short time later, a guard knocked at their door.

“My Lord, a Master Daffyd and Mistress Anna are here to see you.” 

“Thank you.  Percy, could you show them to the conference room, and I’ll get Thranduil and meet you there.  Send for some tea for everyone.”

“Sure thing.”  The Steward got up and left to take care of it.

Bard entered his bedroom, to find Thranduil and Galion sitting in the chairs with a stack of papers on the table between them, and Owena sleeping in the middle of the bed.  “Could I steal you for a minute, love?  We might have a solution for Ellyn’s children.”

“Of course.”  Thranduil checked on the sleeping child, then followed him.

In the conference room, as everyone stood and paid courtesy, Bard looked over their visitors.  Daffyd looked to be about Percy’s age, with a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair, a ruddy complexion and a quick and eager smile, as he stood with his hat in hand.  Anna, his wife, was short, pleasingly plump with bright blue eyes and a kind face.  Her blond hair was streaked with grey, and swept up in a bun with wisps framing her face. 

“Thank you for seeing us, My Lord.”  Daffyd bowed.

“Please, sit.” Bard took the chair at the head of the table.

“You know Lord Percy, of course, But have you met King Thranduil?”

 “We’re honored by your presence, My Lord.”

“The honor is mine.”  Thranduil politely said, as they all took their seats. 

Bard put his hands together on the table.  “I’ve been told you’re friends of Ellyn and her late husband?”

“Aye,” Daffyd answered.  “We’ve known them for years.  Me and Anna stood up for them when they married.”  He took his wife’s hand.  “Begging your pardon, sir, but me and the missus have been talking, and we’d like to take the kids in.”

Anna added.  “We’ve known them all their lives, and we’ve looked after them plenty of times.”

“We feel terrible for neglecting them like we have.” Daffyd said.  “My family’s been busy getting the Livery up and running, and she’s been helping at the Tailor’s.  We’ve hardly had the time to turn around and say boo, but still, My Lord, that’s no excuse for losing track of them.”

“And now to find out she’s sick…” Anna’s eyes filled with tears.  I knew Bowen was doing the marketing, but I just thought it was because of the baby.  If he’d only said something...”

“You’ve been working all hours yourself, and taking care of us and the house.” Daffyd patted her hand. “Don’t fret yourself, love.”  

“But still, I’m her friend!  I should have known!”

“Mistress Anna,” Thranduil said, gently.  “ _No one_ realized she was ill, not even Ellyn herself until yesterday.  Please, let us not waste time in self-recrimination, for I do not think that is what she would want.”

The woman composed herself.  “You’re right.  What’s important is looking after them now.”

“Do you have room?  How would you manage your job and look after them?” Bard wanted to know.  “Owena needs constant care.”

“We’ll make room.  As for everything else, we’ve talked about that,” Daffyd offered, “Anna wants to quit her job, and we’ll manage on my pay best we can.”

“You won’t have to manage.” Bard said, “Percy?”

“Ellyn has been given a widow’s pension for herself and the children.” Percy told them. “Beyond that, Lord Bard wants to make sure their expenses are covered.”

“That’s good to know, sir.”  Daffyd nodded.  “It’s kind that you look after the widows.”

“It’s not a matter of kindness,” Bard told the couple seriously.  “Our people lost loved ones in the fires, and part of our settlement from Erebor is to compensate for that.  On top of that, Owen gave his life in the Battle, so we could be here today.  No one who sacrificed like that will ever be homeless or needy in my Kingdom.   Part of the taxes we will collect will make sure of that.”

“Ulmo and the Valar bless you for it.”  Anna told him sadly.  “Too many in Laketown begged in the streets just to survive, when that cursed Master should’ve looked after them.”

“You’re right about that; no one misses that greedy bastard,” Percy added.  “Pardon my Black Speech, Mistress.”

“Believe me, Lord Percy; we’ve called him worse.”  

“I think Bowen and Maddox will do better with familiar faces,” Bard said, “but it’s Ellyn who has the final say.”

“Of course, My Lord.”  Daffyd agreed, and Anna nodded.  “We’re headed over to see her after this, so we could ask her.”

“Tell you what,” When Bard stood up, and everyone else rose.  “I’ll go with you.  The children are out riding, and I don’t think we should settle this in front of them; it might upset them more.”

“I agree,” Thranduil added.  “If you wait a moment, I will fetch the baby and bring her myself.”

Bard laughed at Anna’s surprised look. “It’s true Elves have a soft spot for children, but Lord Thranduil is nuts about the babies.”

“I remember when he first came into Dale with the Elves that day.” Anna laughed and shook her head.  “I never dreamed he had such a kindness inside, but I’m glad of it, and happy for you, My Lord.”

“Oh, he’s still be terrifying when he needs to be.  But thank you; I do feel blessed.”

 

Daffyd and Anna came in one of his carriages, so once Thranduil had Owena and her things, they rode together, while their Guard followed on horseback. 

Ermon came out to meet them.  “Good morning, My Lords,” he bowed.

Bard introduced the older couple, then asked.  “How is Ellyn?”

Ermon said nothing, but swept his arm out to usher them into an empty room.  Once situated, he explained.  “I placed a _losta-luith_ last evening, to give her a good night’s sleep.  Her exhaustion was exacerbating her headaches, so I think this will bring her some relief.”

“What’s wrong with her?”  Anna asked.

“I am afraid I will need Ellyn’s permission to speak with you.  I am sure you understand - we protect our patients’ privacy.  If she grants this, I can tell you everything you need to know.  Ellyn has just finished breakfast, and I am sure she is anxious to see her daughter.  If you would come with me, please?”

They followed the tall, black-haired Healer to the residential portion of the Healing House, and stopped at the fourth door to the right.  “Ellyn?  You have visitors, if you are up to it.”

“Oh, please!” they heard a tired voice.

Ermon ushered them in, then sent an attendant for chairs.

“Owena!”  Ellyn reached eagerly for her baby.  “Oh, sweetheart…”  She took the baby from Thranduil and kissed her dark head and stroked her back.  “I’ve missed you…  Where are the boys?”

“On horses,” Bard took the chair beside her and smiled.  “Between our children and dogs, I don’t think they’ve had a minute to be worried.”

“Oh, that’s good.”  She finally took her eyes off her baby and noticed Daffyd and Anna standing beside the Elvenking.  “Anna!” her lips trembled, and when she held out one arm, the older woman came rushing over to hold her. 

“Of course, I came; where else would I be?  Why didn’t you send for me, love?  It hurt my heart to know you’ve been feeling so poorly!”

“I just thought I was getting headaches from being so tired…  I’ve been missing Owen so, and the baby cries so much from her teeth, and…  Oh, gods, Anna, I’m so scared…”  Ellyn began to cry.  “I’m so scared…”

Thranduil discreetly stepped over and took the baby.  “Here; let me, good lady.”

As Anna held her friend, and let her cry, Bard met his husband’s eyes and swallowed.  His Elf was calming the baby, probably to mask his own anguish.

“Mistress?”  Ermon stepped forward and spoke quietly, “Your friends have asked permission to be informed of your condition.  Will you grant this?”

Ellyn nodded into Anna’s shoulder.  “Please.  But…  I can’t…”

“You would like me to tell them elsewhere.”

“Aye.” She whispered, gratefully.

“I understand.”  The Chief Healer nodded.  “I will meet with them after your visit.  In the meantime, enjoy the comfort they offer.”  He turned to leave, but not before addressing Daffyd.  “Ask any of my attendants, and they will find me.  Please excuse me.”

Anna stroked her friend’s head gently.  “Lord Bard took the kids last night, but Daffyd and I want them to stay with us.  Would you like that?”

“Oh, I was hoping you would!” Ellyn began to cry again.  “I never wanted to impose on you, Lord Bard.”

“There is no imposition, Ellyn.  It was our pleasure, and as you can see, my husband enjoyed taking care of Owena.”

Ellyn lifted her head up from Anna’s shoulder.  “Was she good last night?”

“She was fine,” Thranduil saw no point in alarming the woman. “The midwife is supervising her conversion to goat’s milk, and she is doing well with a bottle.”

“Hannah asked Seren to help wean her.”  Ellyn sat up and wiped her eyes.  “Can I have her again?”

“Certainly.”   Owena smiled and reached for her mother, and the Elvenking handed her over.  “She is a delightful child.”

“She’s kept me going on days when I didn’t think I could get through…  She’s got Owen’s eyes, and when I see them, I feel like he’s not really gone…”  Ellyn sniffed as she nuzzled against the baby’s cheek. 

“We’re here for as long as you need us, love.”  Daffyd leaned over and kissed Ellyn’s cheek. “Lord Bard is going to help us look after you all, so you don’t need to worry about a thing.”

“That’s right,” Bard seconded.  “It looks like your children will be in good hands, and you have my personal guarantee they’ll want for nothing.”

“That they won’t,” Anna promised her friend.  “I’m going to quit my job and look after them.”

“But you liked the work!” Ellyn protested.  “I don’t want you to give it up.”

“You and those _babinods_ are what’s important.  Glélindë does some her work at home while she looks after her girls, and I’ll just do the same.  Her little Alis and Maddox are friends, so we’ll work something out, don’t worry.  All you have to do is get better, you hear?”

At those last words, Daffyd caught the look that went between Bard and Thranduil and went a bit pale, but kept his silence.

Bard stood up.  “It looks like I can leave you in their hands, Ellyn.  We’ll go make arrangements to have someone bring beds and a crib to the Livery, and make sure Hannah knows where Owena will be.”  He took her hand and kissed it.  “The boys will be here later for lunch and Bowen was promised a basket from my kitchens.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” She looked up at Anna.  “Could you be there, too?” 

“I’ll stay as long as you want, pet.  Whatever you need.”  The woman patted her cheek.  “Daffyd, could you get the apartment ready?”

“Sure thing.  Let’s meet with the Healer, then you can come back.”  He got up and took Anna’s hand, then left.

“We can stay with you, while you wait.”  Bard offered. 

Ellyn shook her head and smiled at her baby.  “As long as I’ve got my little sweetheart here, I’ll be fine.” She sighed.  “I don’t want to think about it, until we know for sure.”

“That’s the spirit.”  Bard patted her hand, as Thranduil set the rest of the baby’s things on a nearby table.

“Goodbye, Owena,” The Elvenking ran a finger over her cheek.  “I hope to see you soon.”

“Lord Thranduil?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. For helping us, after the fires, and for keeping me and my family over the winter.”

Thranduil smiled down at her.  “You are welcome, _hênig._ I share in the hope for good news.”  Then he placed both hands on her head and blessed her: “ _Belain dhe meriad, Heryn Vuin.  Alo Anor erin râd dhîn, a law firo i laiss e-guil dhîn.”_ When he finished his prayer, he bent down and kissed her brow.  “Rest well, dear lady.”

Ellyn looked up at him with a tearful smile, and nodded.

“I’ll send Hilda along with Daffyd to help get things set up.” Bard said. “By then the children will be back to visit with your lunch.”

Owena gave her mom a loud squeal and a smile, so they left while Ellyn had a smile on her face. 

It was the best that could be done, for now.

On their way out, they passed the closed door of one of the treatment rooms, and they could hear Ermon’s low voice, along with the sound of Anna’s weeping, and Daffyd’s attempts to comfort her.

 

When they were back outside, Bard shook his head.  “I had this idiotic idea that once the Battle was over, we’d be done with senseless death, at least for a while.” 

“That is the impossible wish we all cling to – a necessary lie to help us go on.”

“I suppose.”

 “Come _Meleth_.”  Thranduil took his hand.  “Let us not grieve until we must.  There is much about this day that will make us happy.”

 

A few hours later, all was settled, the carriage was in front of the steps in the courtyard, and the Kings and their family said farewell to their guests.  

“Thank you, My Lord.”  Bowen let go of Anna’s hand to give Bard a hug. “You’ve been real nice to us, and I’m sorry I thought you were a crook before.”

Bain laughed.  “I don’t blame you.  Da looks like a criminal, especially in the morning, until he gets his hair under control.  Anytime you want to ride or whatever, you come find Rhys and me, okay?”

“Sure!  When Mam gets better, maybe she’ll let me learn to shoot!”

Daffyd tousled the boy’s hair.  “We’ll see what we can do, lad.  Now, pay courtesy to our Kings, and help Anna get in, will you?”

After Bowen bowed, Bard bent down and met his eyes.  “I’m proud of you for looking after your family, but now I want you to let Anna and Daffyd take over, so you can concentrate on your studies and spend some time with your friends.  You did your Da proud, but let the grownups handle the tough stuff now, yeah?”

“I will, My Lord.” Bowen nodded.  “Where’s Daeron?”

“He had to go somewhere today; he’ll be back on duty tomorrow.  Don’t worry; you haven’t seen the last of him.”

Hilda kissed the boy’s cheek and handed him the basket.   “Take this to your Mam, and have a good lunch.  Don’t forget to visit us!”

“I won’t, Lady Hilda.  Goodbye!” 

They stood and waved, as the carriage left.

 “Will their Mam be all right, Da?” Tilda asked, when they went back inside.

“They’ll do their best to help her, Beanie.”  He took her hand.  “Come on; let’s eat.”

 

After lunch, everyone got ready to disperse for the afternoon, but Tilda was not happy.

“I don’t know what to do, Da!  Tauriel needs to go with Bain and Rhys to the practice yards, and Sigrid wants to help at the Healing House.”

“So, I hear.” Bard noticed his Elf coming out of their bedroom in his paint-stained tunic and leggings, and said to Tilda, “If _anyone_ had told me your _Ada_ be walking through Dale in ratty old clothes, I’d accuse them of fibbing.”

“My clothing is neither old, nor ‘ratty.’ Thranduil said with dignity. “They are simply accented with ‘unique design features.’”

“Whatever,” he kissed Thranduil.  “Will you be back for dinner?”

“Probably not.  Roderic would like the scaffolding taken down as soon as possible.  He is afraid children will try to climb it and get hurt.”

“ _Ada_?” Tilda looked up at him.  “Can I come with you?  I still have my play clothes on.”

“Certainly.  And if you are a good helper, I will even buy you supper.  Of course, we must make sure your Da says it is all right?” 

He took Tilda’s hand, and they both gave Bard their best pleading, puppy-dog faces.

“Oh, for pity’s sake! Go play, you two.  Just make sure she doesn’t get too filthy, and if you get tired, Beanie, you must tell _Ada,_ so he can bring you home.”

“I will! ‘ She took off, dragging Thranduil along. “Bye, Da!”

“Be careful on the scaffold!” he called after them.  “And make sure she eats a good supper!  And don’t let her have too many sweets!  And keep her out of the sun!  And _don’t let her fall,_ _Ada_!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the Elvenking waved absently, then he picked Tilda up. “Let us hurry, _Tithen Pen_ , to get away from your Da’s nagging.”

“Shh!” Tilda whispered.  “I think he can hear you.”

“Oh, I know he can, _hênig_.” 

Hilda came out and stood beside Bard and watched _Ada_ and daughter walk through the big doors and into the sunshine.   “One is twice as tall as the other, but it’s hard to tell which is the grownup.”

“They’re good for each other.”  Bard put his arm around her.

"Thranduil needs that little one, just as much as she needs him." Hilda leaned her head on Bard's shoulder.  "Two peas in a pod, they are."

“Funny how life can change when you least expect it - this time last year, could you have imagined we’d be here, now?”

“Not a clue, love.”  She elbowed him.  “Come on, let’s get back to work.”

 

Just after the sun went down, the Elvenking returned, carrying a sleeping Tilda.  Both were covered in paint, and looked like they had a marvelous time.  

“How in the world did _Esta_ get paint on her?”  Bard asked.

It was true.  The dog was also covered in splotches, including a big green one on the top of her head. 

“She insisted upon sitting under the platform while we worked.”

“To break Tilda’s fall, I’ll bet.”

“I tied a rope around her waist, so there was no danger of that.”

“Small mercies.”  Bard put his hands on his hips.  “Did the Little Bean have a good time?”

 “She did.” The Elf grinned.  “She made up a game called ‘Princess Parade,’ and waved and greeted everyone who walked by.  Roderic told her she was bringing him business, and could come back anytime.  She also took a short nap on an old blanket he brought out for her.”

“Sorry I missed that.  Did you eat?” 

“We did.  Rod’s wife made a fuss and put extra cream on her strawberries.  She fell asleep about halfway home.”

Tilda looked sweet, asleep on her _Ada’s_ shoulder.  “I hate to wake her, but she can’t go to bed like this.  She even got some paint in her hair.”

Just then, Percy and Hilda came out of the lounge. 

“My Lands…” She covered her mouth and began to laugh, then whispered into the sitting room.  “Galion, you’ve got to come and see what Thranduil did to our baby.”

“What is it?” The Aide came out and gasped in horror, “ _Nae gorgor!_ What did you **_do_** to her?  She is covered!”

“Not quite, but close enough.”  Hilda smiled.  “Stay here, while I get her bath ready.  And don’t sit down on anything, until you get your own bath.”

Hilda and Sigrid managed to get the sleepy little girl into the tub and cleaned off.  Thank the stars they got the paint out of her hair – if Hilda had to cut it, she warned, Thranduil would be losing his, too. 

Tilda fell asleep again, before her head hit the pillow. 

“I do not think she overexerted herself,” Thranduil whispered as he kissed her brow.  “She did not run around, and I carried her up the scaffold myself.”

“We’ll ask Daeron, but I think she’s fine.” Bard closed her door, leaving it open a crack, “She had a fun day with her favorite Elf, that’s all.”

Once they were in the corridor, Hilda came up to them, carrying a bunch of towels and shampoo. “She’s asleep?”

“Out like a light.” Bard confirmed.

“Good!” She shoved the items at Thranduil.  “Now, you boys go give the dog a bath.”

“But –“

“Have you ever won an argument with her?” Bard grinned. “Come on, love.”

A tub was filled again, and though the Elvenking had never performed such a menial task, and he enjoyed it. 

Esta did too, but she didn’t like the way Thangon sat beside them and smirked at her, so when she got out, she went over to him and shook herself, until he was as wet as she was.  Then Bain started laughing too, so she ran into his room and dried off all over his bed.

 

At last it was time to say good night, then the Kings went into their room and shut the door.

“What do you smile at, _Meleth nîn_?”

“You.” Bard leered at him, and after he locked the door, started walking toward him. “I’ve been watching you for the last few days, and I’ve realized something.”

“Oh?”  Thranduil stepped backward.  "And what would that be, My King?”

“I like watching you fuss over a baby,” he continued his approach. “I like seeing you fuss over our daughter.”

“You like it?”  Thranduil was backing around the room, keeping just out of Bard’s reach, as Bard swiped his arms out, trying to catch him.

“I like it."

"How much do you like it?" the Elvenking chortled, as he hopped out of reach.  

"I like it a lot.”

“I like you liking it.  A lot.” Thranduil had great fun evading his husband, as the chase continued.

“I like you liking how I like it.”  Bard grinned, and after final lunge, grabbed his Elf, picked him up and tossed him on the bed with a triumphant shout.  “A LOT!”

Thranduil whooped and laughed with delight, and soon it was a race to see who could get each other’s clothes off first.

“Don’t tear this tunic, you.  It’s my favorite,” Bard warned the Elf, as it was yanked off his arms.

“You like it when I tear your clothes off,” Thranduil said, against his lips, as he made short work of his boots and leggings, then ripped Bard’s underclothes to shreds.  “Admit it, Bowman.”

“I do but -  _Aaah!  Oh, bloody fuck!”_ Bard closed his eyes, and he crowed, as Thranduil took him in his mouth and began to suck on him.  “Damn… you always know how to get your own way, don’t you?”

The Elvenking laughed and hummed, which made Bard arch and groan.

“Hey!  I thought I was… _ohhh you bastard…”_  Bard moaned.  “I was supposed to conquer _you,_ you beast.”  

“You think you can get the better of me, Bowman?” Thranduil teased as he grabbed the oil.  “We shall see about that.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.”  Bard threw him off and yanked Thranduil’s legs out from underneath him, and pinned him down with his hands over his head. 

“That is nothing.  I can- _aaahhh…”_   He couldn’t finish the word, because Bard leaned down and ran his tongue along the outside of his ear.  When he took the tip of it in his mouth and sucked on it, Thranduil lost control. “ _A, ae, AE, Bard!  A-charo!”_ Not to be outdone, he began to grind his hips against Bard.

“Mmmmmph…”  Bard moaned as he bit Thranduil’s ear, which made the Elf whimper, then he put his hands on Bard’s shoulders and roughly threw him off, then climbed on top and grabbed the oil again.  Thranduil dribbled a small line from Bard’s belly button to his cock, coated his fingers in it, thrust two of them inside and began stroked his prostate.

“Aaah! That hurts!” 

“Shall I stop?”

No! Nnnngh...” Bard breathed and writhed.  “Just... give me a minute...” When the Elf rubbed his sweet spot in small rapid circles, he moaned and undulated his hips. “You!  You p-play dirty!”

“All is fair in love and war.”  Thranduil said, as he crawled on top of him, took himself in hand, and entered him slowly with a groan.  “Ahh…  _Mae ad born mi gin…_ See?” he grinned with triumph.  “You are not at all hard to conquer, Bowman.” 

“That depends,” Bard panted.

“On what?”  Thranduil grinned down at him.

“Whether this is Love,” the Bowman grinned, “or War!”  He grabbed his husband and flipped them over so that he was on top and began to ride Thranduil’s cock.  “Let’s see if I can make you scream, you bastard.”  He slammed down over and over, until the Elf was writhing and moaning beneath him. 

“Sorry? I can’t hear you,” Bard teased. 

Thranduil began to gasp softly speak in Sindarin.  _“Avo dharo! Ritho! No lagor!”_

“What was that you said?” Bard paused, “I can’t hear you…”

“Bard!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he grinned and teased.  “Do you want me to stop?”

Thranduil opened his eyes and snarled.  “No!”

“But you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself; maybe you’re not in the mood…”

“I would be in the mood if you fucked me properly.”  Thranduil egged him on.  “Maybe it is _you_ who is not in the mood…”  The Elf grabbed Bard’s hips and took control, as he bent his legs and began to thrust into Bard with long, hard strokes.

“Oh, fuck…” Bard threw his head back.  “Stars, that’s so good.”  He enjoyed himself for another minute, then pulled Thranduil’s hands off him.  “Not so fast, Elf.” 

Thranduil found himself on top again with his hips in Bard’s grasp as he set the pace.  The Elvenking was helpless to do anything but let his husband control his thrusts, as he felt the pressure build and was soon screaming his release, and Bard moaned out as he enjoyed the sensation.

“Now that’s what I want to hear…”  Within half a dozen more strokes, Bard took them over the edge again, with a loud cry of his own.

 

“Well?”  Bard panted.  “Who won?”

“I did.” Thranduil kissed him smugly.

“But I conquered you.”

“But **_I_** am the one you conquered.”

“How can I argue with that logic?” Bard protested.  “Even if I win, I lose!”

“I have three thousand years’ experience in diplomacy.”

“Show off.” Bard kissed his nose.

“Any time you would like.” Thranduil closed his eyes and snuggled into his husband. “Forever, if you wish.”

“Works for me.”  Bard held out his hand to help him up, so they could wash.  After crawling back into bed with a satisfied sigh, he closed his eyes, as they settled down for the night.

Thranduil began to chuckle.

”What’s so funny, Elf?”

”I am grateful you are so much stronger _._   I enjoy our wrestling matches.”

”Me too.”  After a minute or two, Bard spoke again. “Thranduil?  Could you do something for me?”

“What do you need, _Meleth nîn_?”

“I want you to draw a picture of you and Tilda, when you came back tonight, when she was sleeping on your shoulder.”

“But we were a mess!” 

“Yes, you were, and I don’t want to forget it.  I don’t want to forget anything about our lives, especially as the children grow up.”

“It is a good idea.”

“I was thinking…  If you could make a book for us, like the one you made for Legolas, and fill it with stories and pictures…  I think it would help, later….”  Bard whispered.  “...when we’re missing them…”

Thranduil raised his head and stroked Bard’s cheek.  “I will make several, and we will take them to Valinor, when we sail.”

 “I love my life with you,” Bard whispered, and kissed him.

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Savo hîdh nen gurth, a govano i nothrim în ah i mellyn în mi Mannos. –_ May you have peace in death, and may you join your family and friends in the afterlife.

 _Belain dhe meriad, Heryn Vuin.  Alo Anor erin râd dhîn, a law firo i laiss e-guil dhîn._   – May the Valar protect you, Beloved Lady.   May the sun shine upon your path, and may the leaves of your life never die. 

 _Mae ad born mi gin…_ \- You are so soft and hot inside…

 _Avo dharo! Ritho! No lagor!_ \- Don’t stop!  Harder!  Faster!

 

NOTES:

In case you forgot, the story Tilda is referring to is told in “And Winter Came…” Chapter 1.

Concerning Owen’s death:  It is not unheard of, in wartime, for soldiers to ease a friend’s passing when there is no hope of recovery.  In fact, Professor Tolkien himself wrote about shooting a friend WWI to spare him agony.  (That was Ermon, by the way, and what he gave Owen was an overdose of poppy juice.  Bowen was too upset to recognize him, when the Elf was examining his Mam.)

In case anyone is interested how in the world I come up with all this Sindarin, I’d like to state that No, I am not fluent (!); not even close, but there are several handy-dandy sites that I get this from:

<https://realelvish.net/phrasebooks/sindarin/doriath>

<http://www.ambar-eldaron.com/english/downloads/sindarin-english.pdf>

<http://www.elvish.org/gwaith/sindarin_grammar.htm>

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are some lovely illustrations, done by the wonderful [Creepy Scientist!](http://creepyscientist.tumblr.com)
> 
> And these are even more wonderful, because they are in color!!

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daeron and Turamarth enjoy an early-morning workout, before he reports for his part-time duties at the Healing House. As he makes his way there, he does a little reminiscing, and we learn more details of Thranduil and Bard's first meeting on the Forest River, and witness their encounter when they meet again in the ruins of Dale.
> 
> His day has some unexpected surprises, but the summons he receives at the end of the day is the biggest one of all.

 

 

“The way he looked at you. I got it then. He loved you, and it was killing him. He won't get over you… he can't.”

**― Cassandra Clare, _City of Glass_**

**City of Dale, 18 th of July 2942 T.A.**

Daeron woke up early, and enjoyed a vigorous sparring session Turamarth before he began his shift that day.

“One of these days, you might be as good as me,” his cousin smirked.

“As I recall, it was you that yielded.  Twice.”

“I was letting you win.  I am in a generous mood.”

“Generous?”

“Of course.  You will never best me in archery, so I let you believe you are better with swords.”

Daeron rolled his eyes and smacked him with his leather gloves. “Do me no favors, _Gwador,”_ he shook his head as they collected their equipment, then went home to wash, before they began their duties for the day. 

The cousins had chosen to share an apartment in Dale, close to the Castle.   As Officers, they were not required to live in the barracks, and as they were both assigned to guard the King Bard and his family, it made sense for them to live nearer to the Castle.  Today, Turamarth would be at King Bard’s disposal, while Daeron headed to the House of Healing to see patients. 

Since the end of May, when the citizens returned from the Woodland Realm, Feren combined the Royal Guard of Dale, to better enable these flexible and fluid duties, and Thranduil was pleased at the idea, although he only a trusted few would be chosen to guard his husband.

He also knew that for Daeron to neglect one gift in favor of the other would be unwise, so he ordered Feren to arrange for time each week for the Elf to practice medicine. 

Daeron has been Bard’s Chief Guard since the Battle of the Five Armies, and most of the time, Turamarth seconded his duties.  When he wasn’t covering for his cousin, Turamarth enjoyed the challenge of protecting Princess Sigrid, Prince Bain, or Princess Tilda, as they often scattered in different directions, giving him a variety of scenery and activity.  Officially, his title was Chief Guard to Sigrid, Princess of Dale, but often worked alongside Tauriel and the others to make sure they were all safe.  Ruvyn and Ivran were assigned exclusively to King Thranduil, and worked opposite shifts for the most part.  Still, Feren would put them elsewhere, if the Kings spent the day in their offices, and the need was great elsewhere.

Tilda almost never went anywhere without one of her fathers, so there wasn’t much call for her own guard just yet, and since both Das were trained in combat, she was doubly protected.

Tauriel spent most of her time with Bain, as she was keen to build on what Daeron had taught them during the winter, and continue lessons the sword and bow.  Rhys was almost always with him, and those with wisdom and experience encouraged that friendship.  Every King needed a Right Hand, a trusted friend and confidant, that would encourage him, speak the truth to him, and (in private, of course) disagree with him.

Thranduil had Feren.  Bard had Percy.  And if the Valar would grant it, Bain would have Rhys.

As Daeron said farewell to Turamarth, he walked the several blocks to the large three-storied building in the center of Dale.  This location was evidence of Lord Bard’s commitment to serve all his subjects – he had heard the Master of Laketown had only catered to the wealthy or high-born, and left the rest to fend for themselves.  This building was closer to both the Market Square, and the neighborhood where Bard housed its elderly citizens, so they did not have far to travel. 

On a personal level, he was grateful to work in an entirely new building.  The site of the old Healing House had been razed completely, and replaced with the new Army barracks.  Memories were painful enough; he didn’t want to step in the same halls and have them brought to life again.  Still, as much as he enjoyed the sight of the restored buildings and houses, he mourned for the old Dale and all the friends he had lost there.

~o0o~ 

 

 

> In 2770 T.A., just three years after Sellwen’s death, Daeron was still recovering and under the care of his family, when  the Elves of the Woodland Realm heard a terrible roar, and dread filled their hearts as they looked up and saw a Dragon flying Eastward.
> 
> Tthe next day, the Elvenking summoned him and Turamarth to his study.
> 
> “Sit down, Lieutenants.  There is news we need to discuss.”
> 
> “Is it about the Dragon, My Lord?”
> 
> “Yes.”  Thranduil closed the adjoining door to Galion’s office and sat behind his desk.  “Daeron, I did not want you to hear this from anyone else.  Your cousin is here, not as a fellow Guardian, but as a friend."
> 
> His heart began to pound.  "What has happened, My Lord?"
> 
> "Erebor has been sacked, and many are dead, but,” he paused, “Dale has also been destroyed.”
> 
> “Completely?”  The room began to sway, and he could barely feel Turamarth's hand on his arm.
> 
> “My preliminary reports say it has, and that the entire Royal Family has been killed.”
> 
> Daeron’s heart clenched.  “Lord Girion... _All of them?_ ”
> 
> “I believe so.  Commander Feren is preparing a caravan to aid the refugees.  We leave in four hours.”
> 
> “My Lord, I want –“ Daeron began.
> 
> “No, Lieutenant; you will stay.”
> 
> “But I want to help, Sire!”
> 
> “Your inclinations are admirable, but you are not on the Army’s active list.  I have spoken to Ermon at great length and he feels it would jeopardize your recovery.  I am taking Ermon and his wife, your mother, to supervise the feeding of the survivors, as well as Turamarth and his parents.  You will be in charge of the Infirmary while I am gone, and your father will take over Feren’s duties."
> 
> Daeron's head swam as he tried to grasp this new reality.  All his friends...  the Master of the Healing House... Wynne...  So many...  
> 
> "I am truly sorry for your loss, Daeron," Thranduil leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk.  "But my word is final on this matter."
> 
>  “I understand, Sire."  And he did.  He knew he wasn't ready to see Dale on it's best day yet, and the idea of seeing the beautiful City of Bells in ashes, was beyond his comprehension.  "I will do my best."
> 
> “I know you will.  Dismissed.”
> 
> (As it turned out, there _was_ a survivor of the Royal Family:  Girion’s daughter-in-law and baby grandson had been visiting relatives in nearby Esgaroth when Smaug came, and there she would remain with her relatives and care for the tiny King.  For his own safety, it had been decided that the boy would abandon all political claims, and live in anonymity.  The line of Girion fell into obscurity until a certain Bargeman appeared on docks of the Forest River, to meet with the Elvenking to be interviewed for the job of delivering and collecting wine barrels.)

~o0o~

Eventually, Daeron was strong enough to return to the life of a soldier of the Woodland Realm, and for the next one-hundred-and-sixty years threw himself into protecting the forest from Orcs and the ever-increasing spider population.  Last fall, he was in the forest with his Guardian Unit, when Legolas and Tauriel captured the Dwarves, and brought them before his King.  He saw the dread on Lord Thranduil’s face, when he recognized Thorin Oakenshield, and knew he feared the Dragon’s wrath, as they all did.  On Thranduil’s order he helped throw them in the dungeons, and they all hoped it would prevent needless deaths.

He was on duty with Turamarth at the Main Doors, when Lord Thranduil ordered the Kingdom to be shut, allowing no one to enter, and no one to leave. It had been Turamarth, who reported to the Prince that Tauriel had left.  After Thranduil gave his son leave to find her, he watched his Prince leave across the bridge.

When reports announced Laketown’s destruction, and Smaug’s death, King Thranduil ordered the entire Army to gather supplies and move out, the Lieutenant was once again summoned to his King’s study.

“You are to accompany your unit to Dale, and will be working with Ermon and Elénaril in the Healing Tent, treating the refugees.”

“I have not done this work for over a century and a half, My Lord.”

“It will come back to you.  No one in my realm has more experience in treating the Edain - not even Ermon.  You are needed, Lieutenant.”  Thranduil sat back in his chair and crossed his legs.  His tone was kinder, yet still firm.  “Daeron, I know returning to Dale will be difficult, but I believe it is time to face your past.  You need to get back to what you were born to do; any less would dishonor the gifts you were blessed with.”

Daeron lowered his head, and said, “If my King wishes this, then of course I will do as he commands.”  His throat tightened, and he swallowed.

“Daeron, I think if you did not go, you would regret it.  Every reported death in the Healing Tents would haunt you, because you would wonder if you could have saved them, had you been there.  These victims have lost their homes and loved ones, and have nothing.  We must help them.”

Daeron nodded and said nothing.  He understood the wisdom of Thranduil’s words, but his stomach roiled with anxiety.  But he was a Guardian of the Woodland Realm.  He straightened his shoulders and put his faith in his liege, like he always had.

When they made the journey through the Forest, and first arrived in Dale, he recognized the one they called Bard right away, for he had seen him seven years earlier on the Forest River, when the man was interviewed for the job as Bargeman to the Elvenking.

~o0o~ 

 

 

> It was late June in the year 2935 T.A., Daeron watched the boat approach the dock, and observed the black-haired Man expertly secure the fastenings and approach the tent which had been set up with a table and chairs for the short meeting.
> 
> _"Û!"_ Daeron gasped loudly, before he could stop himself.  This man was of the line of Kings of Dale, resembled Girion so closely, for a split second he thought he was the King himself! 
> 
> Bard of Laketown stopped when he saw the Elven Guard staring at him with his eyes wide.
> 
> “I’m here to see Lord Thranduil,” he said, in a slightly bemused tone.
> 
> Even his voice was like Girion’s!  Instantly, Daeron was flooded with memories of the night when the late King of Dale helped him accept his loss, and the days following, when the King visited him in his room to offer what comfort he could.  Daeron missed all his friends.
> 
> “Is something wrong?” the Bargeman asked warily. 
> 
> He cleared his throat and shook himself.  “My apologies,” and lifted the flap to the tent, ushered him inside and announced.  “Bard of Laketown to see you, My Lord.”
> 
> He felt a little bit better, when he saw Lord Thranduil react similarly, yet the King quickly brought himself under control.
> 
> “My Lord Thranduil,” Bard bowed politely.
> 
> “Please; have a seat,” the Elvenking gestured to the chair opposite him and poured him some wine.
> 
> As Bard settled in, Daeron had a chance to observe him more closely.  There was no question he had the look of Girion, but he was taller, and his eyes were green-brown.  His nose was smaller, his beard was thinner, and he was leaner in the waist and hips. Bard’s face had lines on his brow and in the corners of his eyes, from days spent in the sun on the Long Lake, and probably from the relentless grind of poverty that plagued so many in the town on the Lake. 
> 
> But it was more than worry. Bard the Bargeman had an aura of deep sadness about him. 
> 
>  Once the formal pleasantries were exchanged, Thranduil began the interview. “Your letters of reference speak highly of you, Bard, son of Brand.” The Elvenking Picked up another piece of paper.  “I also have a letter here from the Master of Laketown, requesting me to not only decline your employment, but to hire a nephew of his, instead.”
> 
> The man went pale, and looked down at his lap in defeat.  “I…  am not a favorite of the Master, My Lord.”
> 
> “That much is obvious.”  Thranduil set the letter aside, and folded his hands.  “I have also made my own discreet enquiries about you, and my reports state everyone not in authority respects you, as they did your father.”
> 
> Bard did not meet his eyes.  “That is kind of them to say.  I will not lie, I am often brought before the Master, as he feels I am encouraging sedition among my people.”
> 
> “He considers you a,” he looked at the letter again, “’a rabble-rousing agitator that causes discord in our otherwise peaceful city.’”  He looked at the Man.  “Is this true?”
> 
> This time Bard sat up straight.  “If ‘rabble-rousing’ includes bringing food and medicine to poor and hungry people who would otherwise go without, then yes, I am guilty, and proudly so, My Lord.  I do not smuggle for personal gain; I do it because my people are starving, and I will not stand by and let that happen, if I can prevent it.”
> 
> Thranduil tilted his head.  “How do I know you will not ‘smuggle’ some of my wine, into the city?  I have no desire to have a thief working for me.”
> 
> “I would never, My Lord and you have my solemn word, on my father’s grave.  I might be a ‘thief’ as you say, but I am honest one.  If I say I will not, then I won’t.”
> 
> As the King and the Bargeman regarded each other, Daeron noticed Bard’s countenance change then, and saw the shadows of all the Kings in his family line, and he was impressed.  Thranduil was giving away nothing of his inner thoughts, but the Guard knew that his King saw this, too. 
> 
> “Tell me about yourself, Bard.  You have a family, do you not?”
> 
> “I do, My Lord.”
> 
> “Tell me about them.”
> 
> “My oldest, Sigrid is nine, and I have a son, Bain, who is seven, and my youngest, Tilda, will be a year old in September.”
> 
> “And you are the sole support of your family?”
> 
> “I am.  I am a fisherman, as was my father before me, but since the taxes have been raised again, it is simply not enough to keep food on the table.  I have friends who help me, but...”
> 
> “I have been told your wife died in childbirth with your youngest.”
> 
> Bard looked down and swallowed, but gave a slight nod of his head.   
> 
> I offer you my condolences.  Your wife was a teacher, was she not?”
> 
> “She was, My Lord.” Bard swallowed again, and ran his hand over his face as his eyes filled with tears.  “Forgive me.  It is…”
> 
> “…still a fresh wound.  I understand, and again, I am sorry for your loss. I… wish words could be more helpful, Bargeman.  Here,” Thranduil refilled his drink and handed it to him.  “I think this is a good occasion to use this for medicinal purposes, do you not think?”
> 
> “Thank you.”  Bard nodded and took a long drink.
> 
> “You have the job, Bard of Laketown, but I do not want you to think I do it out of pity.  I am impressed by the letters of our friends, and from my own sources, and that tells me I can trust you.  You need not worry about consequences from the Master.  Most of his wealth comes from me, so he will not dare question my decision – especially if I express my displeasure should these shipments be ‘interrupted’ for any reason.”
> 
> “Thank you very much, Lord Thranduil.”
> 
> Bard was grateful and relieved, but nothing changed the stoop of his shoulders and the dull look in his eyes.  Both Thranduil and Daeron knew that nothing would – not for a long time.
> 
>  

> Six-and-a-half years later (3rd of November, 2941, T.A.), after the Bargeman killed Smaug, and brought his people to Dale, the ground troops of Army of the Woodland Realm had silently entered the ruins while the refugees slept.  Daeron was riding beside Turamarth, as their Guardian unit escorted King Thranduil and the caravan of supplies into the center of Dale.  
> 
> He wasn’t at all surprised to see Bard had been appointed leader of this group, when he walked over to his King who was astride his Elk, _Baera_ - _Maethor_.  It was the first time they had seen each other since that day on the Forest River, and he couldn’t help but notice Thranduil’s eyes widen as the Elvenking and Bargeman look upon each other once more.  Daeron looked over at Feren, and saw that his Commander noticed it, too.  The King looked like he had been struck by the  _Ehtë_ _Raumo,_ the powerful feeling he himself had when he first encountered the _fëa_ of little Sellwen.
> 
> “My Lord Thranduil,” the Man had said.  “We did not look to see you here.”
> 
> It was interesting to watch Thrandui shake himself from his reverie to say, “I heard you needed aide.” And with a lift of his chin, gave the signal.
> 
> In came wagon after wagon of food, blankets and medicine, and the relieved cries of the Laketown people could be heard as they rushed forward.  The Elves were firm but kind, as they urged restraint and began to organize the distribution of the contents of the wagon.  Thranduil had also ordered the ground troops to begin to pitch tents to see to the needs of these people.
> 
> “You have saved us,” Bard looked up at the Elvenking and their eyes met again.  “I do not know how to thank you,” he said.
> 
> The flustered look on Thranduil’s face only lasted a second, but Daeron saw it, as did Commander Feren.  He resumed his calm, controlled countenance, and all who knew their King saw that the harsh tone of his words were borne of discomfiture, not hostility.
> 
> “Your gratitude is misplaced.  I have come to reclaim something of mine.”
> 
> The subsequent debate over the reasons for going to war ended with Thranduil giving him a horse to ride to Erebor and treat with Thorin.
> 
> “That Dwarf will not yield,” Feren commented, as they watched the Man ride away.
> 
> “No.” Thranduil shrugged. “But Bard needs to see that for himself.  More important, his people need to see him try; It will encourage their loyalty."
> 
> “I am surprised at your patience with him.”
> 
> “He is entitled to some patience, Feren.  The man is of the line of Girion, and is their King, though he does not realize it, yet.”
> 
> “Is this the reason you loaned him _Fînlossen?”_ Feren smirked. “Your _favorite_ horse?” 
> 
> At Thranduil’s withering look, Feren smirked and turned his horse around.  “If you will excuse me, My Lord, I am off check on the progress of the camps.” 
> 
> “Commander.”
> 
> When Feren looked back, the Elvenking ordered.  “Have my black stallion brought from the Palace.  Bard will keep _Fînlossen_.”
> 
> _“Very_ generous of you, My Lord.”  The Commander was gone before the Elvenking had a chance to reply.
> 
> Thranduil turned toward Daeron, who was pretending not to hear the conversation.  “Report to Ermon at once and help get the Healing Tent ready to receive patients.”
> 
> “Yes, My Lord.”  Daeron immediately turned _Aegis_ and left.  Whatever was going on between his King and the leader of Dale was irrelevant.  These people were in dire need of help and he was determined to overcome his anxiety and do his job.
> 
> He was immensely relieved to find it all came back to him.  His anxiety was gone after a few minutes, and replaced with compassion and skill, as he was working alongside Ermon and Elénaril to treat the worst cases, as the assistants and several of the Laketown folks treated the minor injuries. 
> 
> Then, he came upon a young, brown-haired girl, heavy with child, as  she tried to manage two buckets of water as she winced in pain. 
> 
> And he put his hand on her wrist to help her, and he felt the _Ehtë_ _Raumo_.
> 
> Again. 
> 
> And it fascinated him, and excited him, but most of all, it terrified him.

 ~o0o~

 Months had passed since that time. Winter had come and gone, it felt like a miracle to be once again living in his favorite City and doing the work he loved.

Daeron entered the Healing House, and, after noticing the waiting area empty, he decided to see how Mistress Ellyn was doing.

She was sitting up, propped up with pillows, speaking with Elénaril.

“Good morning; how do you feel today?” he stepped in the room.

“The extra sleep I’ve been getting is wonderful.”  Ellyn smiled.  “They are going to run more tests later, and we should know soon.”

He came over and took her hand.  “May the Valar give you good news.  Either way, you can place your faith in Ermon and Elénaril.  They will give you excellent care.”

The woman nodded, and smiled at Ermon’s wife.  “She’s wonderful, really.”

“She taught me everything I know.  You are in good hands.  When will you see your family?”

“They want to work with me this morning, so the Anna will bring the kids in this afternoon.  Elénaril was just telling me about it.”

“There really is nothing to it.  It is imperative that you stay still, so Ermon wants to make you sleep again, and we will take a close look.”  Elénaril took her hand.  “Everything that we can do to help, will be done.”

“Thank you.”

“I am afraid I must begin seeing patients, but I hope to visit with you later.  I want to see how Maddox’s ankle is doing and the injury to his knee.”

Daeron said his goodbyes and went back to the treatment area, and began his day.  There were mostly minor injuries and joint strains, from the busy work of the folks of Dale.  Children came in with cuts and scrapes from navigating the winding cobbled streets, or playing in the parks.  A few illnesses were diagnosed, and medicines were dispensed to worried parents, and sent on their way.

“Daeron!  Where’s Daeron!” he heard a young voice yell.  “They said he was here!”

He had just finished bandaging a little boy’s finger and his mother was taking him through the passageway and out the door.  “I am here; what is it?”

“Hannah told me to get you and come quick!  My Mam is having her baby!”

Daeron turned around quickly and grabbed his bag and bundle of clean instruments and left with her. 

“Why can you mother not come here?”  He asked the girl as they marched quickly through the city. 

“Hannah says it’s happening too fast, and…  something’s wrong.” She began to cry.

“What is your name, child?” 

“Rose.”  He grabbed his bag, then took her hand.  “We must be brave and do our best, yes?  Now, come; how fast can you run, can you show me?”

They ran the rest of the way, and Rose took him through the front door and into the back bedroom of the house, where a woman was writhing in agony, and Hannah looked worried.

“Rose?” He turned to the girl, who looked to be no more than ten.  “Where is your father, child?”

“He died in the fires, sir.”

 _Ai!  So many widows in Dale!_ The woman must have gotten pregnant right before the Dragon destroyed Laketown.  “Do you have grandparents?”

“They live three blocks over.”

Hannah looked up.  “Rosie, go to their house and stay, do you hear?  We’ll send someone to fetch you, love.”

“But Mam –“

“It’ll be fine, love.  Get you to your Grammy’s, now.”  The Midwife smiled at the girl.  “Go on.”

After the girl was gone, Hannah quickly explained.  “Things, are moving pretty fast, and I think the baby’s turned wrong.” In a louder voice, she smiled.  “Shelagh, this is my friend Daeron, and he’s going to help me look after you.”

“It’s too fast!” Shelagh wailed, before another contraction hit. “Why is it coming so fast?”

“Your baby is anxious to see its Mam, that’s all.” Hannah soothed her.  “Just let Daeron have a look-see, and we’re going to make sure you’re both all right.”

Daeron stroked her brow.  “Can you lie still, breathe deeply, and we shall see why your baby does not want to behave for us.”

“I’ll...try.”

He closed his eyes and concentrated.  There she was…  She was breech.

_Hello, little one; we need you to move your head down for us…_

The baby tried to move for him, but there was no room. 

Because of her sister.

So, that was it.  He took his hands off.  “Did you know there were twins?”

“Twins?  TWINS?”  Shelagh wailed.  _“Two of them?”_

“I can’t believe it!” Hannah was shocked.  “Why didn’t I feel them?”

“Is there something wrong?  What’s wrong?”  Shelagh’s eyes were filling.

“Please do not worry.”  He smiled down at the mother.  “Your children are full of mischief, and wanted to play a ‘cat and mouse’ game with Hannah.  Their heartbeats are strong, and they appear healthy.  We will need to sort them out and help bring them to the light.”

“They had me fooled.”  Hannah held the woman’s hand as she worked through a powerful contraction.  Then she checked the woman’s cervix.  “She’s ready to push now.  My Lands, they’re eager to see their Mam!  Come on, Daeron; looks like we’re a team again - get up there and do your stuff!”

Daeron crawled behind the woman, and held her just as he had Rhian, when Darryn was born.  “We will deliver the head-down child first.” He explained.  “Shelagh, I need to twist her bit to get the cord out of the way, and force her to let go of her sister, and when your first little girl is born, we are going to turn the other around, and get her ready.”

The woman stopped her panting and looked up at him. “Girls?” 

“Two little girls.  I hope you have two names you like, because they will join us soon.   Come; let us begin.”

After some careful maneuvering and readjustments, both babies were screaming and squalling bundles in their mother’s arms.

“Congratulations, Mistress.  Your girls are identical twins, so I suggest you tie a ribbon on one of their ankles to tell them apart.”

“Here.” Hannah took the ribbon from her hair and tied it around one of the baby’s feet.  “There you go!" She grinned at Daeron. "They were ‘sharing,’ weren’t they?” Hannah laughed, as she gathered up the sheets.  “No wonder they fooled me!”

“I don’t understand.” Shelagh was tired, but curious.

“I am glad I was here, Shelagh." Daeron explained.  "Few identical twins share the same birth sac, but when they do, things can get in a tangle, and cause complications.  Yours were embracing one another, and did not want to let go.”  He smiled down and stroked the cheek of one of the babies, who had fallen asleep.  “All is well now, so be at ease, and enjoy your little surprise.”

“Your Mam and Da will be over the moon, love.” Hannah got up.  “Can you stay with her, while I go get them?”

“I will do that, on my way back to the Healing House.” He stood and smiled at the woman.  “Hannah will take things from here.  Get your rest; if these babes were full of trouble before they were born, I can only imagine what they will be like, Mistress.” 

“Thanks for your help Daeron.” Hannah said.  “You saved the day.”

“You are most welcome, Mistress. _Cuio vae.”_

As it turned out, there was no need to find Shelagh’s parents.  When he left the bedroom and went to the living area, there was Rose, holding the hand of a grey-haired woman and they both looked worried.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we couldn’t wait,” the girl explained.  “Grammy wanted to be here.”

“I understand.”

“Is our girl all right?” the Grandmother stood up.  “Rosie said something was wrong, and I had to come!”

“All is well.  Mistress Shelagh is ready for visitors, and,” he squatted down to smile at Rose, “your Mam has a surprise.”

“Is it a sister or a brother?”

“I think I shall let you see for yourself.”  He smiled and stood up.  “Your mother is anxious to see you.”

Rose grabbed Grammy’s hand and pulled her to the bedroom, and Daeron heard their squeals of surprise, just as he closed the front door behind him.  He sighed with satisfaction and relief, he admitted.  That could have easily gone wrong. He would speak with Hannah and see if they could come up with some different protocols.  He did not need to preside over every patient of Hannah’s, in fact, most of the time human mothers did fine.  But if she was willing, he would offer to look at these women at least once to spot trouble before it started.

 

That afternoon, Daeron was finishing up with an elderly gentleman, who was suffering from joint pain, when he saw Ellyn’s children come in, along with Anna, who was carrying baby Owena.

“Hello, Maddox.” He smiled down at the boy.

“Hi, Daeron!  We sleepted at Anna’s house!”

“It sounds quite an adventure.  Let me take a look at your foot, and make sure it is better.”  He sat the boy on a chair in the waiting area, stooped down and moved his ankle around. “Does this hurt?”

“Nuh uh.” Mad shook his head. “You fixted it.”

“Excellent…  He looked under the bandage on his knee.  “Healing nicely.  That is good, too.”

He stood up.  “I wish all my patients were as easy as you.”  Daeron turned to Bowen.  “How are you today?”

The boy looked down at the floor.  “Fine.”

Anna put her arm around his shoulders.  “Bowen’s a bit tired, today, aren’t you love?”

“I think about Mam.  She’s going to get better, right?” Bowen’s face begged for good news.

Unfortunately, Daeron didn’t have any answers one way or the other, and to give him false hope would hurt him more in the end.  “I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but I simply do not know.   I can tell you this:  Ermon and his wife, Elénaril are much better Healers than I could hope to be, and if _anyone_ can help your Mam, they can.”

Bowen swallowed, and nodded. 

“Have you been eating, _Ion?”_

“I’m not hungry.  Anna’s a good cook, but…my stomach is upset a lot.”

“I understand.  Could you take your brother and sister back to see your mother?  I need to speak to Anna for a moment.” The woman handed the baby to him, and they went through the double doors to the residence Hall.

“He can’t eat?”  The Elf asked worriedly.

“He’s not joking when he says he doesn’t sleep either.  I can hear him walk the floor.  Last night, he was looking out the window and praying.  He said he was talking to his Da, and I didn’t have to heart to make him stop.”

“Come with me.” He instructed, then brought her to the dispensary, and handed her a couple of small vials.  This is oil of peppermint. Give him this right after meals; that should help settle his stomach.  If it doesn’t work, we’ll try a fennel tea or ginger.  This,” he held up the second jar. “will help him relax and ease his anxiety so he should sleep.  Brew this in a cup of sweet tea and give it to him at night.  And if these children need _anything,_ do not hesitate to bring them.”

“Thank you.” Anna sighed, and looked at him.  “It doesn’t look good, does it?”

He shrugged.  “She is their patient, and will give no answers until they have them.  It is better that way, in the long run.  In the meantime, I only work here part-time, but will help you with the children, when I can.  Has Hannah been in touch, yet?”

“She’s been a big help with the baby, and we’ll get her straightened around.”   Anna took the items, but before she left to join the others, she said, thoughtfully.  “I want you to know that should things take a turn…  My Daffyd and I told Ellyn we’ll take them and love them like our own.  We already do.”

“I think you have given her a great deal of comfort, good lady.”  Daeron took her hand and kissed it.  “She will find peace in your words.”

The woman sighed and stood straighter.  “Aye.  No one deserves it more.”

After their visit, the family came back out to say goodbye.  “Mam says she’ll know tomorrow when she can come home!” Mad said.

“If that’s when Ermon says, then you know it is true.  Are you being good for Mistress Anna?”

“Aye!  I help Daffyd brushted the horses, and Powell let me sit on one!”

“Powell?”

“My son,” Anna explained.  “He’s nineteen, and works for his Da.”

“Is he pleased with your visitors?”  Daeron asked.

“Oh, aye.  He’s known these three since they were wee _babinods._   Like cousins to him, really.”  Anna looked at the boys thoughtfully.  “He’s helping us keep them busy.”

“The best medicine.  The children are blessed to have you and your husband.” Daeron smiled.  “I have no doubt they get plenty of those.”

He walked them to the door and waved them off, just as a messenger from the Castle approached.

“Lieutenant,” he saluted.

“Private.” Daeron returned the gesture.  “What can I do for you?”

“I have a message from King Thranduil, sir.  He wishes to see you in his office tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.  Please tell the King I will be there.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

After the Private left, Daeron did his best not to worry.  What could this be about? 

Had he done something wrong?

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Û!_ \- It cannot be!

 _Ehtë_ _Raumo_ – (Q.) Lightning Bolt  (lit. “Storm Spear”) Sometimes, when an Elf first encounters his or her bond-mate, they can feel a powerful, emotional response, like lightning.  (It doesn’t always happen – Thranduil felt it when he first saw Mírelen, but she did not return his feelings at first.)

 _Aegis_ – the name of Daeron’s horse, (“Protection”)

 _Cuio vae_ \- Farewell

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rude awakening, Thranduil sits down to breakfast with his family and discusses their plans for the rest of the summer.
> 
> Once everyone has dispersed for the day, the Elvenking meets with our favorite Guard to discuss a matter of great importance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE - 27 June 2018: Please enjoy the wonderful illustration done for the "Two Thrones" series, done by the remarkable and funny [Creepy Scientist](http://creepyscientist.tumblr.com/)! 
> 
> If you love Barduil, go to her Tumblr page and check them out!

  

“Because what’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?”

― **James Patterson _, The Angel Experiment_**

 

**City of Dale; Morning, 20 th of July 2942 T.A.**

_Ai_ _, naeg **!**   _

Thranduil rolled over in bed to face his husband, and was met with a sharp kick to the face. 

He opened his eyes, and saw two small, bare feet… legs clad in blue pajamas, and the body of a petite seven-year-old sprawled on her back, with Charlotte tucked under one arm, and the other curled up around her head.  Tilda had obviously crawled in between them during the night, but _how_ _in_ _the_ _world_ had she managed to turn herself completely around?  Could _anyone_ be as squirmy as their youngest?

 

He rubbed his sore nose, and noticed the dull grey light shining through the window to his left; it was raining.  A flash of lightning and a loud crack of thunder punctuated this observation, and the mystery of his _Tithen Pen’s_ appearance in their bed was solved.  She must have heard the storms and been frightened.

Despite his painful awakening, Thranduil smiled as watched her sweet face, her long eyelashes feathering over cheeks that were rosy from fresh air and the summer sun.  Tilda was a real menace in her sleep, and he found it annoying (and often painful), but he realized that, when his time with her was over, when she left this world to join her mother, this is the memory he would treasure the most.  There were memories he would treasure about all of them.

Before the Battle, before Bard, he would have hidden behind stoic walls to prevent deep feelings, but now, though he knew there would be a price to pay, every time he looked at Sigrid, Bain and Tilda, he etched their faces on his heart, stored away the sounds of their laughter, to carry with him always.

He would absolutely make those books Bard asked for.  He would do it for both of them. 

“Morning.”  His husband’s voice was gravelly from sleep.

 _“Fân fanna Anor,_ _Meleth nîn_.”

“Mmmm…” Bard grumbled.  “Don’t make me think so much before I’m awake.”

“How else are you going to learn your Sindarin?” Thranduil smiled. “We have a visitor, again.”

The Bowman opened one bleary eye.

Thranduil grabbed one of Tilda’s feet and held it up.  “She was…  busy,” he chuckled.

Bard propped himself up on one elbow and rubbed his face.  “I’ll say.”  He threw off the covers, and headed into the privy.

Thranduil pulled himself up and sat against the headboard as he watched his  _Tithen Pen_ sleep for a few more minutes.  “ _Gwennig vuin,”_ he whispered, then he tickled the bottom of her foot.  Her reflexive kick was aimed right at him, but he was quick this time, and grabbed her ankle, before he tickled her again.

“What are you _doing?”_   Bard stood there with his hands on his hips. 

“Waking her up,” he grinned.

“You both are ridiculous.” The Bowman looked out the window.  “It’s raining.”

“I told you thus, earlier.  Had you been practicing your Sindarin, you would have known this.”

Finally, Tilda stirred and sat up.  “Why am I down here?” she looked at her _Ada_.

“You will have to tell _me_ , my little love.” He held out his arms.

She crawled up to cuddle with him, and yawned.  “There was thunder last night.”

“Lightning, too, Little Bean.” Bard went over and looked out the window.  “The rain is good for the crops.”  He turned and smiled down at her.  “Come on; we need to be up and about, so let your Da and _Ada_ get dressed and we’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Okay, Da.” She sat up and kissed her _Ada,_ then crawled over him to give her Da a hug.  After he kissed her, he set her down on the floor and with a pat on her behind, sent her off.

“We should discourage her from coming into our room so much.” Bard came around and sat facing him on the bed. 

“Please do not, Bard,”  Thranduil smiled sadly.  “She will outgrow all this much too soon, and I do not want to miss any of it.” He sighed and kissed his Bowman.  “You said yourself how quickly  they grow.  For me, it is too fleeting.”

“All right, love.” He cupped the Elf’s cheek, and kissed him again.  “You’re hair’s a mess.”

“Yours is much worse.”

“A typical morning, then.  Come on, Elf; I’m hungry.  The staff will be here soon, and I like to be the first one on the job.”

“You will be, now that Alun is no longer sleeping at his desk.”

“Aye.”   Bard affirmed. “No more of that.”

~o0o~ 

> Poor Alun had been working even longer hours than Bard, but it couldn’t be helped.  Every household in Dale, had been given a sum appropriate for the size of the family, and each Merchant in Dale was allocated a suitable amount of gold, in order to get their businesses off the ground.  Almost all of them had problems with unforeseen expenses and needed to see the Treasurer to apply for more, to see them through these difficulties.
> 
> Percy had found him asleep with the ledgers one morning – he hadn’t the energy to go home – and went to Bard, insisting the man be given some help.  Alun suggested they hire an Adjustor, to go out and inspect each claim, and come back with recommendations.  They needed someone honest, diplomatic and good with figures.
> 
> After six men and women were recommended to them, they ended up hiring two.  They decided a part-time clerk could work basic tasks in the office to free up Alun’s time for important tasks, and a man was hired full-time as an Aide to the Treasurer.
> 
> Evan, son of Aeron had come to New Dale from his small village in the East Bight, just off the southern portion of Mirkwood.  When news of the Dragon’s death and the rebuilt city reached them, many residents there made the trip in the spring to the new City, to swear their fealty to King Bard, and find a better living.  Evan had an engaging personality, and was well-educated, and was known for his reputation for discretion and integrity.  He was soon set up in Alun’s office and was seen walking around Dale with pencil and paper in hand, helping smooth out the City’s many wrinkles.  He was tall, in his late twenties, and lived alone, so it wasn’t long before Hilda began to fuss over him, making sure he had enough to eat.   
> 
> Percy teased her about it, saying she “had a crush on the lad,” and he was jealous.  Hilda usually responded with a sharp poke to the ribs, or smack him with a with what ever she happened to have in her hand.

~o0o~

When the Royal Family sat down breakfast, Bard passed the eggs to Bain and said, “We’ve got a lot coming up in the next month, kids.  Tomorrow - weather permitting - Bain will dedicate the children’s park.”

“This is true.  We will all go and support him.” Thranduil decided. “Next week we will travel to Erebor to meet the rest of the Royal Family.” 

“I’m headed over there tomorrow with Galion,” Hilda reported.  “We shouldn’t be more than two days.”

“Why, Auntie Hil?” Tilda asked.

“There are many differences between the customs and cultures of our peoples, _hênig_.”  Galion answered her.  “Balin will be coming here to stay and will educate you, as we educate them.”

“But why?”

“We do not want any silly misunderstandings, _Tithen Pen_.  If we learn as much as we can beforehand, it will help us know how to be polite.”  Thranduil told her.

“Oh.  Like what?”

“Well, Balin will come and tell us how to say a proper greeting to the King and Queen and their family.  We will also meet their children and grandchildren, so will learn how to play with them.”

“That’s silly!” Tilda was incredulous. “Everyone knows how to _play, Ada!”_

“Not everyone plays the same way.” Galion warned.  “For instance, Dwarven children are very physical and like to be rough and tumble, but we do not want them to injure you accidentally.  So, Hilda will go there and explain things, so they will be careful.”

“So, if you tell them I can’t run, they won’t think I’m being snobby?”

“Precisely.  We’ve been to Erebor before, but this time, there will a formal ceremony in the Court of King Dáin and Queen Dilna, so we must learn how to do things properly to show our respect.”

“What if they come here?”  Bain said, with his mouth full of eggs.

“Please do not speak with food in your mouth, _Ion nîn,”_ Thranduil reminded him.  “Whenever a King holds a Formal Court, it is incumbent upon the visitors to show respect by learning and following their customs, as much as possible.”

“I think it will be fun,” Sigrid observed, “I like learning new things.”

“Me too.” Rhys had joined them for breakfast, as he did most mornings.  “May I please join you, Lord Bard?  It sounds interesting.”

“Speak for yourself.”  Bain griped, but he made sure to swallow his food, first. “Sounds too much like school.”

“Maybe it does,” Hilda gave him a severe look, “but when Master Balin is here, you _will_ pay attention, is that clear?”

“Yes, Auntie Hil.”

Bard looked around the table.  “That goes for all of you.  Outside of these quarters, we don’t follow examples – _we **set** them_ , isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Da.”  All the children nodded.

To Rhys, he answered, “You can join us, and I **just** _know,”_ he gave Bain a pointed look, “that as Crown Prince Bain will learn all this, won’t he?”

Rhys grinned and jabbed Bain with his elbow.  “Thank you, My Lord.  I’ll make sure he pays attention.”

“This is one of the many pressures of being Royalty, children.”  Thranduil gave them all an encouraging smile.  “We have spoken about it several times, and it can be difficult, I know.  But I know you love your country, and your Da and would never want to cause him problems.”  As he was spreading cheese his toast, he changed the subject, “Three weeks after our visit to Erebor, we will journey to the Woodland Realm for the wedding.”

“Goodie!”  Tilda clapped her hands.

When Tilda became terribly ill last February, Meriel was her caretaker, and they had become exceptionally close.  Last month, when Tilda received a letter asking if she would be in her wedding to Dior, a Captain in Thranduil’s Guard, she shrieked so loud, everyone ran into her room, thinking she had hurt herself.

“What does a Flower Girl do, _Ada_?”

“I am not sure. This is a custom of Man, so your Auntie Hil might know.”

The little girl turned to Hilda, who told her.  “You will carry a basket of flower petals and toss them on the floor in front of the bride as she walks down the aisle, lovey.”

“Will Sigrid wear her tiara?”

“Probably.”

“But I don’t have a tiara!” Tilda gave a melodramatic moan.  “Can’t I get one? It would be sooooo pretty!”

“ _Hênig_ , you cannot have one yet; your head is still growing.”  Galion reminded her.  “And you know very well, the tradition is your _sixteenth_ birthday, just like your sister.” 

Tilda was no dummy; she turned to the one person who could refuse her nothing.  “ _Ada?”_ she simpered, “Couldn’t I get one?   Just this _once?”_

Before Thranduil had a chance to react, Da shut these shenanigans down.  “Tilda!  Don’t put your _Ada_ on the spot like that.” Bard admonished her. “You will wait, and that’s that.  Now, apologize.”

She looked down at her plate.  “Sorry, _Ada_.”

 _“_ Apology accepted, _hênig_.”

“Even if you had a tiara,” Hilda told her, “you couldn’t wear it anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Flower Girls always wear a crown of flowers.”

“Oh…”  Tilda considered this for a minute, then brightened.  “Really?”

“How long will we be at the Palace?” Sigrid asked.

“I have planned for five days.  I want the opportunity to take you into the forest, and your Auntie Hil will want to see the King’s Gardens in full bloom.  There are some places I want to show your father, too.”

“About that,” Hilda said as she poured another cup.  “Think I’m going to stay, and spend some time with Uncle Percy.”

“Are you going, Uncle Percy?” asked Bain.

“Sorry, kid.  Someone’s got to mind the store here.  I’ll be ruling for your Da, and Tauriel has to help me make sure everyone minds their P’s and Q’s.  Your Aunti Hil and I plan to enjoy a few days free of noisy Sea Monsters.”

“What about you, Uncle Galion?” Tilda wanted to know.

“I am staying and ruling on your _Ada’s_ behalf.  Commander Feren has to go, because he will be part of the wedding, as Dior’s friend.”

“Are you in the wedding, _Ada_?”

“I am presiding over the ceremony.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means _Ada_ gets to tell them what words to say,” Sigrid answered, “and if they say them right, he tells them they are married.”

"Actually," Galion said, "they will be married when -"

"A-hem!" Bard gave the Aide a severe look.  "Like Sigrid said, they have to say  _the words_.  Isn't that right,  _Ada?"_

At the Bowman's meaningful stare, Thranduil sat up straighter and tried to hide his smile.  “The ceremony and blessing before friends and family is very important.  They must invoke the name of Eru Iluvitar just like Mithrandir did when your Da and I got married."

“But what if they don’t say the words right?” Then Tilda’s eyes brightened.  “They’d have to do it over, I could be Flower Girl _again!”_

“It’s not a test!”  Sigrid laughed.   Of course, he’s going to tell them they’re married!”

“But they _might_ not." She said hopefully.  Then her eyes widened.  "I don’t know how I’m supposed to walk!”

“Don’t worry, Beanie.” Hilda told her.  “We’ll get you a little basket, and let you practice marching for the big day.”

“When we get back, school will start soon after,” Thranduil reminded everyone.

“Speaking of school,” Hilda said.  “Bronwyn has a date for the first day:  August 30th.”

Not surprisingly, moans of displeasure came from Bain and Rhys, and neither of the Kings could blame them, really.

~o0o~

> The boys had spent a glorious  summer riding, sparring or trekking with their Elven Guards through the nearby woods learning about the forest (which neither of them grew up in) and how to track and hunt.  Tauriel and Turamarth were their main instructors, but occasionally Daeron would rotate his schedule and come too. 
> 
> In June, to celebrate Bain's fourteenth birthday, Thranduil and Tauriel took Bain, Rhys and a bunch of their friends camping, and taught the boys how to make a shelter, to build a safe fire, and the different plants they could eat.  The best part of the trip was watching Thangon work - the Elves gave them a demonstration of the dog’s hunting and guard skills.  The boys were _impressed,_ at that, and looked at the big dog with a great deal of respect _._   There was more to this goofy beast than meets the eye, and none of them wanted to get on the wrong side of his teeth.
> 
> The girls were thrilled at the idea of school starting again.  Sigrid, of course, loved her studies; she’d had little formal schooling in Laketown – only what her Mam, then Auntie Hil gave them at their kitchen table.  When they spent the winter at the Palace, she relished the organized atmosphere, the teachers, and best of all, the books!  Her favorite room in Thranduil’s palace was the King’s library.
> 
> Tilda liked her classes too, and was still practicing her exercises to help her fingers coordinate again.  Her penmanship was almost back to where it was before she contracted Brain Fever last February.  Meriel had worked with her diligently, but now that they were back in Dale, Da was working all the time, and so was Hilda and Percy, it was her _Ada_ who made sure she did her exercises.
> 
> Thranduil was desperately behind with his own work, and would leave for the Palace in September to spend two weeks getting caught up with things there.   He technically could just stay after the wedding and let everyone else come back to Dale, but he didn’t want to miss their first day of school. 
> 
> He had loved looking after them this summer, and though he knew seeing them off to school would break his heart, he didn’t want to miss it.  He didn’t want to miss _anything._

 ~o0o~

“Where are our Sea Monsters headed today?”  Percy asked.  “It’s raining, so no rides or playing in the practice yards, but don’t complain.  We need the rain, if we’ll get good crops.”

Tauriel spoke up. “We will be staying in the Castle.  The room _Ada_ and Bard use to spar in will make a nice place for the children to do some practice with their self-defense.”

“Rhian’s coming, right?" Sigrid asked.  "She likes that stuff, and I could watch the baby while she works.”

 “I will send someone over after breakfast, and she can come with Ben." Thranduil offered.  "I have an important meeting this morning, and paperwork to go over with Galion, but I can join you after lunch for a couple of hours.  Then you father and I will go over to the Healing House to visit Mistress Ellyn.”  He looked at Tilda.  "You will stay with your sisters today, _Tithen Pen."_

"I can help watch the baby!"  

"Yes, you can.  And when I am done with my meeting, Daeron and I will help you with your exercises."

“I think we’ve only sparred twice since the children came home.”  Bard complained.  “I’m getting soft!”

“I know you have a great deal to do, but we must make time for that, _Meleth nîn_.”  Thranduil answered.  

 “Not now.  I’ve got to get ahead for all these trips.”  The King of Dale wiped his face and hands and said goodbye.  “Loads of work waiting for me.  Come on, Pers.”

“Right behind you.”  Percy got up and kissed the kids, and blew a raspberry into Tilda's cheek.  “See you later.”

After they left, the rest of the family got up and went their separate ways.  Thranduil headed to his study, but not before sticking his head into his husband’s office.  He and Percy were already hunched over their work, and Thangon was lying at his feet, ready for his morning nap.

“Did you want to attend this meeting with me?”

“I’m buried here.  I think it would be better if it were just you and Daeron, anyway.  It’s a sensitive subject and he’ll feel more comfortable if it was just you.”

“That is true, I think.”

“Thanks for asking.  Let me know how it goes, but later.” Bard gave him a look, and Thranduil knew what it meant.  The Kings would go over this in the privacy of their chambers, behind a Silencing Spell, and away from listening ears.

“Galion,” Thranduil asked the Aide, who was sitting behind his desk.  “I will meet with Daeron in my chambers.  Please have a tray sent there with tea and perhaps some fruit.  Where is that letter Mithrandir gave us last May?”

“The one from Lothlórien?”

“The very one.”

The Elf rose and opened the credenza on the side of the room, and got out one of the narrow boxes and opened it.  “Here, My Lord.”

“Thank you.  Please send Daeron back when he arrives.”

“Of course.”

Thranduil went and settled himself in one of the chairs in their bedchamber and organized his thoughts.  Of all the members of his Guard, or his entire military, this Lieutenant was a particular favorite, as was his cousin, Turamarth. 

~o0o~ 

> Thranduil and Captain Adamar had been friends since before he had married Mírelen, and his wife Idril had served his meals long before that.  The couple were well suited to one another, as was Idril’s twin sister and her husband Ómar.
> 
> Their children, Daeron and Turamarth had been born within five years of each other and one could hardly be seen without the other, in the Palace.  In fact, the two families shared a large apartment, as the twins couldn’t bear to be apart for very long. Both Elflings benefitted from this and had a double set of parents, rather than aunts and uncles.  Idril was always naturally inclined toward the physical needs of the children, such as warmth, clothing, and serving them good healthy meals, while Indis tended to excel at discipline and teaching, as well as counseling them with a wise, listening ear.
> 
> Turamarth never once displayed jealousy, when his cousin’s special gifts emerged.  He was the younger of the two, but he became Daeron’s second in all matters, his staunchest supporter and protector; even if he needed protecting from himself.  When he saw his best friend become worn down, he would sometimes drag him away for some rest, over Daeron’s objections.  Indis understood her son’s role in her nephew’s life, and encouraged it.  Though they often spent years apart, such as when Daeron served Lord Girion in Dale, they all remained close through letters and frequent visits.
> 
> When King Girion’s letter arrived with news of the woman callrd Miriam, and her infant’s death, Thranduil was greatly alarmed, and had no doubt as to who best to send to Dale and bring the Elf home.  Of course, Turamarth would go, and when he returned with his pale, depressed cousin, his entire family gathered him close to look after him.
> 
> To Thranduil’s knowledge, no other Elf could do what Daeron does.  Years earlier, the Elvenking had written to Elrond, wanting to know if he had heard of such a thing.  It wasn’t just unborn Elflings who responded and connected to the young Lieutenant, but babes of any race -  this was astounding!  Elrond had written back, also expressing his amazement, and after looking through his archives confirmed the exceptional nature of the Silvan Elf’s gift.

~o0o~

And now, Thranduil was worried about him.  He didn’t want to see one of his favorite subjects fall into the same type of despair he had before, and something had to be done. 

A knock was heard at the door.

_“Neledho!”_

“You wished to see me, My Lord?”

“I did.  Please; have a seat.  I am sorry about having our meeting in my bedchamber, but I wanted to speak with you privately, and we are rather crowded here.  Needs must, you understand.”

“I do.” The Lieutenant nervously sat.  “I must ask; have I done something to displease you, My Lord?”

“Not at all, please do not worry.” Thranduil waved his hand.  “Your work and dedication have been exemplary as always.  And please; no titles here, just call me Thranduil.  In this room, I am a nothing but a husband, a father and a friend.  And _you are_ a friend to me, _Mellon._   You have saved my _Tithen Pen_ from death, or worse, and it is only thanks to you, that she can walk and talk and be as well as she is.  To say I am in your debt is inadequate; I owe you the life I have now, for I cannot fathom what life would have been like, had she left us.  She brings me such happiness.”

Daeron smiled.  “I know you love your other children dearly, Thranduil, but Princess Tilda has stolen your heart.”

“The older ones are off chasing their own possibilities, and I do love them, but our little one’s biggest need at the moment is to be cherished, and I find healing in giving that to her.”  Thranduil smiled.  “Speaking of Tilda, if you could examine her today at some point, we would be grateful.  She spent yesterday afternoon with me, and she seemed unusually tired.”

“Did she exert herself?”

“Not that I could see.  I carried her through the City, so she did not walk or run.  She was up on the scaffolding with me, and merely sat and waved to passersby.”

“Was she in the sun?”

 Thranduil shook his head. “We spent most of the afternoon in the shade.  The weather was warm, and she ate a good supper at the tavern, but she fell asleep when I carried her home, and she barely stayed awake during her bath.”

“I will check her thoroughly, when we are finished here, but I doubt anything is amiss.”

“Thank you.”

Another knock was heard, and a kitchen servant entered with the tea and light snacks.  As Thranduil poured out and handed him his cup, he opened the discussion.  “Daeron, I am not meeting you in your capacity as an Officer in my Guard, nor as a Healer; I am asking to see you as a friend. 

“I have known you since the day you were born.  I have watched you and your cousin grow up to be as close as your mothers.  It is not a joke when people say they have trouble telling you two apart.” He smiled. “I have enjoyed watching your gifts develop, and I am glad you have Turamarth.”

“We have each other.  No one could ask for a better friend; in all ways, he is my brother.”

“I count myself fortunate to have such a friendship with Commander Feren.”  Thranduil smiled.  “We are both blessed.  Now, I have him, and my husband.  We have much in common, you and I, Daeron.  We both have lost our bond-mates, and we both were alarmed when love found us again.”

Daeron was surprised to hear this.  “You were frightened?”

“Of course.  These things _did_ _not_ happen more than once in an Elf’s lifetime!  Then Mithrandir came and told us of our reward for killing the fell creatures of Morgoth.  Ours was an exceptional situation, and I am grateful, but since then, I have also been praying fervently for the Valar to recognize the same courage in so many of my people.”

“But you and Lord Bard killed Dragons!  You both chose to face them; not run away!”

“We did make that choice, but how many of my men would have gladly faced the same danger?  Commander Feren would have sacrificed himself in my stead, had I not ordered he be restrained, and it took four Captains to hold him back!  Does he not possess the _same_ heart, the _same_ determination to protect our people? 

“I see this courage _everywhere_ in my Kingdom, and while I thank Eru and the Valar every day for my second chance with Bard, but it pains me that so many, who are equally deserving, are overlooked.”

Thranduil sat back and crossed his legs.  “It seems I have been given an answer.  Mithrandir came to see us in May with much news, and told us the full meaning of Eärendil’s Blessing.  How much have you heard of this?”

“Eru Ilúvatar has changed the nature of some Elven bonds.”

“Yes.  What is _not_ common knowledge, Daeron, is that my former wife, Mírelen was the one who asked the Valar to petition Eru.  She had asked that our bond be sundered before we even came to Dale.”

The Elf was shocked. “Queen Mírelen?  But I had always remembered you so happy together!”

“Oh, we were; have no doubt about that.  Honestly, if she had lived, I would be happy with her today, just as Bard knows he could have lived the rest of his life in bliss, with his late wife.  You must also understand that I love Bard every bit as much as I did my wife, and vice-versa.  Neither of us stopped loving them, in order to love each other.”

Daeron was silent and thoughtful, as he reached for his teacup.

“I would also add, is that you do not have to feel like you need to stop loving… What was the name of the child in Old Dale?”

“Sellwen.”

“Ah.  ‘Daughter of Joy.’ That is beautiful.  I am sure you see how you can still have love for Sellwen, alongside your affection for Rhian.  Does one compete with the other, in your heart?  I know you no longer feel the pain of _Rista-Goeol_ _,_ but how do you feel about your memories, now?”

“She is part of me, and I treasure it.  I have been thinking about Sellwen a great deal, and wondered at first, if I was betraying her memory.  I know it might seem silly –“

“Your love was real, was it not?  Had she been born, her physical mind would not have recognized you for a long time, but her _fëa_ knew, and that was _real.”_ Thranduil gave him a sad smile.  “I said the same thing to Tauriel, as she wept over the body of her fallen Prince.”  Thranduil sighed. “That day, she forced me to understand some things I did not want to see, yet I am the better for it.  I am saddened that Kili was taken from her, but her heart will heal, just as yours did.”

“But it is harder when an Elf has actually joined with his or her bond-mate.”

“It is.” Thranduil nodded gravely.  “Queen Mírelen convinced the Valar to reconsider such matters.  To fade from grief, to sail, or, in my case, remain, but as a hollow shell, is cruel, especially when Elves are here to protect the land and join the fight against Sauron.  She _knew_ I never wanted to sail until my children and my people were safe at last, and my forest was free from sickness. She demanded to know why I, _or_ _any_ _other_ Elf should suffer such afflictions for wanting to serve Eru and the Valar in this way?  I am grateful she wanted our  _fëas_ to be sundered.”

“You are?”

“Oh, yes.  Even if I remained alone, even if had not fallen in love with Bard, to simply be free and have the potential for joy once more...”  He smiled.  “It would have been more than enough.  Shortly after we were married, I told Bard, ’In losing her, I have gained her,’ and it is true.  I can now recall Mírelen, and speak of her with genuine fondness and pleasure,” Thranduil leaned forward, “Much like you can with your Sellwen.”

The Guard nodded his agreement.  “I am better for having known her.  I know that, now.”

“Still, Daeron, I am worried about you.”

The Elf felt flustered. “I am sorry to cause you any distress.  I never wanted to -“

“Back in March, you came to me at the Palace and spoke about your growing affection for Rhian, daughter of Ben.  At that time, you were not yet sure of the depth of your feelings, or perhaps you were not ready to admit them to yourself.  Tell me; have your feelings changed?”

Daeron sat still for a long time, staring down at his tea, and Thranduil could see his jaw clench and his fingers tense up.   Finally, he blew out his breath, and spoke.  “I am in love with her, and I grow more so with each passing day.  I think about her constantly, needing to be near her, but when I am, it is agony, because –“  He stopped and swallowed. 

Thranduil stood up and took the Elf’s teacup and set it down on the table.  Then he went over to the tray on a side dresser and poured Daeron a large cup of his strongest wine and gave it to him.

“This will be more beneficial than tea, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  Finish it all, and we will continue this conversation.”

Daeron drank it down and set the cup on the table.  “I do not know what to do. She sees me only as a friend; a brother-figure, if you will.  She is easy and relaxed with me, and her openness only endears me more to her.  I am happy she feels no pressure from me, I really am, but,” his voice cracked, “I cannot do this anymore.”

Once the Guard finally admitted he was at his breaking point, a flood of emotion washed over him, and he put his head in his hand, to hide his tears. 

The Elvenking stood once again and put his hand on his shoulder to offer what comfort he could.  “Do not despair.  Nothing in Rhian’s heart has been decided yet.  To my knowledge she has no feelings for _anyone,_ not just anyone _else._   She is busy in caring for her child, her new home, her new father, and immersed in her schoolwork. There is nothing to say she will not grow to love you, at some point.”

“But what if she finds out I’m in love with her and she -” Daeron clenched his fists in frustration.  “I am trying _so_ _hard_ not to give myself away and now I find myself avoiding her, because…  I give excuse and say I am very busy, which is not a lie, but I cannot be around her like this!  She will know, even if I say or do nothing!  She is not ready!”

Thranduil poured him another drink.  “One more, and then I will make you switch to tea.” 

After he drank it, Daeron went on.  “I do not care that she is human, and I am Elf.  If I had the chance, I would give up _everything_ to be with her!”  He looked at Thranduil with tears on his face, “But… if she married me out of obligation for all I’ve done for her, or guilt, because she does not return my feelings, and does not want to hurt me...  I could not do that to her, or myself.”

Thranduil put his hand on the Guard’s shoulder and squeezed it, then sat down opposite him again.

“Daeron, what you would, or would not give up, should you marry Rhian, is not relevant right now.  Should that opportunity present itself, we will speak again.  The immediate, pressing problem is this:  Rhian needs time, and you need distance.”

“Yes.”  Daeron sighed.

Thranduil crossed his legs and smiled at the Guard.  “ _Mellon_ _nîn_ , I have the solution for you both.”

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

**_Ai, naeg!_** – Oh, ouch!

 ** _Fân fanna Anor,_ _Meleth nîn_** -  It is overcast, My Love.

 ** _Gwennig vuin_** – My beloved little maid

 ** _Neledho_** _–_ Enter (command)

 ** _Rista-Goeol_** – “Terrible Severing” The pain from losing a bond-mate.  If this happens after they are married, and their _fëas_ become one, it can be a dangerous thing; the spouse will often need to sail, to keep from fading, or, if they stay, he or she will feel the hollow place forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to every single reader for sticking with me this far in my “Two Thrones” series!  Your kudos and comments mean more than I can say. The Kings and their extended family have asked me to extend their appreciation as well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil's meeting with Daeron continues. The Guard is given an offer and discovers he has an unexpected patron.
> 
> Later that afternoon, the Kings and their Guards make their way in the heavy rain to see Mistress Ellyn and discover her fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't yet heard, the very talented artist, [Creepy Scientist](http://creepyscientist.tumblr.com) has graciously agreed to provide some illustrations to the story of Tilda, Charlotte and her Ada, which can be found [here.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/33585381)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it, and hope you are liking this storyline so far! Thanks for sticking with me!

  

 

 

 

 

“To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves.”

**—Federico García Lorca, Blood Wedding and Yerma**

 

 

**City of Dale; 20 th of July, 2042 T.A.**

“ _Mellon nîn,_ I have the solution for you both.”

“Excuse me?”  Daeron was curious, and a bit skeptical.

“Mithrandir brought me a message from Lord Celeborn when he came.”  Thranduil held up the letter, bearing the seal of the Golden Wood.

“Lothlórien?”

The Elvenking nodded.  “I was mistaken in my belief that the Blessing of Eärendil was only meant for the Woodland Realm.  This assumption was mostly borne from the suffering of our people during the funerals, but I confess it also came from centuries of never thinking past our own borders, to consider the wider world.

“The Valar sent the healing light of the Silmaril to _all_ within its power, particularly the Lady of the Golden Wood.  She was greatly weakened by her efforts to banish the Dark Lord to Mordor, and while she still feels the effects, she was greatly aided by this.  The Blessing that shifts the paradigm of Elven love and marriage rites was meant for _all_ Wood-Elves, not just those of the Greenwood.”

“Wood Elves?”  What about the Sindar? And the Noldor?”

“Oh, they are also blessed, but while we all look up to the Stars, your kind are more inclined to seek strength in the works and blessings of Yavanna.  Silvans are also less likely to feel the sea-longing unless they are grieving, and wish to stay and protect all green and growing things.  Your folk have suffered greatly from the sickness in Mirkwood.

Daeron winced, and looked at Thranduil in surprise.  “You _hate_ that name; why do you use it now?”

“I say it just this once to illustrate how ill our home is, and to also tell you how proud I am of all of you, for persisting in your efforts to care for our Kingdom despite this burden.”  Thranduil sighed.  “You not give in to this despair, and I pray the day will come when we all can see the Woodland Realm become healthy and green once more.”

“We all pray for that.”

Thranduil held up the letter again. “Lord Celeborn has a proposal which you might find useful, but first, allow me give some context:  I closed the borders of the Greenwood, thinking isolation would protect us from evil, but it found us, did it not?  I wonder if I made it easier for Sauron to take up residence in Dol Guldur, and fool us all.

“Lothlórien had adopted these isolationist policies long before I did, and we are all realizing our mistake.  We need cooperation and trust between Kingdoms, between all the races of Free Peoples, and must begin establishing these relations as soon as possible.

“The Great War is coming, Daeron.  Many of the preparations the Kings in the North are making is to defend our people and our lands, when it comes.  We are learning from the Men, we are learning from the Dwarves, and they learn from us.  This unity strengthens us, and division weakens us - no one can argue the Battle taught us this, did it not? 

“To that end, we plan a military exchange program between countries, such as Gondor, Rohan, and even other Elven realms so their armies can learn from our unique blend of cultures here, and it is our hope that it will be successful.

“The Lord of the Golden Wood would like to send some troops here soon, though we are only getting started.  Perhaps it is _because_ we are at the beginnings if this, that Celeborn finds the timing to be right; we are growing and learning together, yes?”

Daeron’s eyes narrowed.  “So… soldiers from the Woodland Realm will go to Lothlórien?”

“To be specific, I want to send Guardians.  Your training and skills match those of their Wardens.”

“And you want me to select a unit of troops willing to go, for… how long?”

“Feren will take care of gathering candidates.  The assignment will last one year.” 

Thranduil held Daeron’s gaze, and the Guard said nothing for a moment or two.  “My Lord…  Are you commanding me to go?”

“No; the posting is voluntary.  I am merely suggesting that you take advantage of this opportunity.” 

“That would be… a blessing,” the Guard mused, “but I am assigned to protect the King of Dale; I cannot turn away from such a responsibility!”

“I admire your dedication, but the immediate chaos in Dale has settled down, and for the foreseeable future Bard will be in his study most of the time.  Turamarth would take your place while you are gone. His Westron is nearly fluent, and he is as talented with the sword and bow as you are.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“I have spoken to no one except Bard, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  He knows of your… difficulties.”

“You have spoken of _this_ with him?”

The Elvenking shook his head.  “He guessed the generalities, but knows no details, and does not ask any questions.  In any case, Rhian is his subject and a friend of the family, so it is appropriate for him to have at least some knowledge of your situation.  You should know,” he looked at the Elf with compassion, “several more in our family circle have begun to suspect something, but you can be sure nothing will be said.  Daeron, I do not think you can conceal this much longer, and if you stay, she may hear of your feelings from someone else, before she has a chance to understand her own heart.  No one wants that.”

Daeron sighed and put his face in his hands.  “I never asked for this; I was content with my memories and was learning to be happy again.  I never thought... I only wanted to help her carry water that day, and when I touched her wrist, it was…”

“Instantaneous?”

“Yes.  I tried to deny it.  I told myself it was just compassion, because she reminded me of Miriam.  Then one day she smiled at me and...”

“No one can dictate where a heart wishes to travel, Daeron, and nothing can guarantee happiness when it does.”  The Elvenking looked upon him with pity.  “That is the truth of things.  What is also truth, is that you cannot go on like this, and I do not wish to see you fall into despair once more.”

 “And the assignment is for an _entire_ year?”

“One year.” Thranduil confirmed.  “There is something else you should know, and it is one of the reasons why I asked to meet with you.” He unfolded the letter, and removed a smaller, sealed note.  “The Lady Galadriel has personally asked for you.”

 _“Me?”_   Daeron’s jaw dropped.

“She asked for you by name.”

 “But… how does she even know about me?”

“I do not know.  Mithrandir assures me he never mentioned you, nor have I in our correspondence.  I suspect she has heard of your extensive experience treating human patients and wants you to help train her Healers.  It would make sense; if they wish to engage with the outer world, she wants their people well-prepared.”

“I can hardly believe it...” The Guard was dazed.

“There is something else you must consider, Daeron.”  Thranduil leaned forward.  “I do not think the Lady has requested your participation simply because just you are a talented soldier and gifted Healer.”  He handed him the note.  “This is for you, _Mellon nîn.”_

Daeron took it, and his eyes widened like saucers when he read:

 

_Daeron Adamarion, Lieutenant_

_Guardian of the Woodland Realm_

 

He turned it over in his hand and examined the seal of golden wax.

“The Lady sent me a message…” his voice was small, and he held it away from him, not quite knowing what to do. “What does it say?”

“I have no idea, _Mellon.”_ Thranduil smiled. “There is only one way to find out.”

The Guard’s hands trembled as he broke the seal, and unfolded the paper.  The message, written in flowing Tengwar script, contained only two sentences:

 

_Not every mountain path can be seen from the valley before it._

_That which you seek searches for you, as well._  

 

Confused, he handed the paper to his King.

“This is personal, Daeron.  You do not have to show this to me,” Thranduil offered.

“Please; I do not understand what it means.”

After studying it for a few moments, he handed it back.  “I do not understand it either, but none of Lady Galadriel’s actions are without purpose.  I also suspect you will not find the answers here.”

“When would the unit leave for Lothlórien?”

“In the third week of September.  The Wardens will arrive at the Palace during the second week, then be escorted to Dale from there.”

Thranduil took a drink of his tea. “Take some time to decide.  We go to the Palace to attend Dior and Meriel’s wedding, so you could dicuss things over with your family, then.  Send no written correspondence; this mission is not common knowledge yet.”

“Yes, of course.”  

“Feren and I will need your answer by the end of August.  I want to assure you that while I think this is a good idea, no one is going to force you, nor will we think less of you if you decide to decline.  I could offer you a temporary assignment in the Woodland Realm, as an alternative.”

The Guard sat in silence for a moment or two. “I will think about what you have said.  Do I have permission to discuss this with Turamarth?”

“You do,” Thranduil stood up, “provided it goes no further.  I want you to examine Tilda immediately after this, then take some time to digest all of this.  I have arranged the schedule for you to report two hours after the noon bell, and then work until sundown.  Bard plans to visit Mistress Ellyn later and discover the results of her tests; I am sure you want to be present.”

“I do.”  Daeron stood and saluted. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Dismissed. 

The Guard went through doors of the Great Hall and saw that the rains had stopped, at least temporarily, so he went to the stables, saddled Aegis, and headed for his Oak Tree to think.

 

 When he returned to his apartment, Turamarth greeted him cheerfully from the table.  “Daeron!  I thought you were working this morning.  Do you want some lunch?”

“Maybe later.” He sat down with a sigh.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.  Well, yes.  Maybe.”

Turamarth crooked his eyebrow.  “That sounds ominous.”

“I have something to tell you, but it must remain private, for now.”

“Of course.”

He related to his cousin the news their King and brought him.

“An entire year?” Turamarth asked.  “I could volunteer and go with you.”

“You are more than qualified, _Gwador,_ but Lord Thranduil has other plans for you.”

“Why you, especially?”

 Daeron handed him the note bearing the Lady’s personal seal. 

“From _her?”_ he exclaimed.  _“Nan ear adh in elin… Ú!”_

“Apparently.  What do you think it means?”

Turamarth’s lips moved silently, as he read the note over several times.  “I do not know… It might mean you will discover your destiny in Lothlórien.  If this is true, then you must go.”

“It would be the only way to discover the meaning of this.”

“But _would_ you come back?  What if I am right, and your answer is to stay?”  Turamarth gave him a worried look.

“We are thinking too far ahead.” Daeron told him. “The real purpose of this mission is to is to help relations between our Realms.  I doubt you would be able to join me; Lord Thranduil wants you to take my place as Guard to King Bard. _If_  I decide to go.”

“I would be honored, and of course you will go; how could you not?  When do you have to give him your answer?”

“I will talk to our parents when we are back home.  I must give the King my answer after that.”

Turamarth grinned.  “You know Aunt Idril will want you to go, and send back recipes, for her kitchens.”

Daeron laughed, for a second, then became serious.  “ _Gwador_ , there is something I would like you to do for me, while I am gone…”

“Anything, _Mellon_.”

After he finished talking, Turamarth agreed with that, too.

 

***************

“Hello, love!”  Bard looked up from his desk.  “Please tell me it’s time for lunch.  My eyes are bugging out.”

“It will be soon.” Thranduil smiled from the doorway.  “Do you have a moment or two?”

“I do.”  Bard stood up, and followed the King to their bedchamber and shut the door.  “So… what happened?”

“I think he will do it.  He showed me Lady Galadriel’s note and it was... puzzling.”

“Are you worried?” Bard asked.

“If I thought harm would come to him, I would rescind the offer and command him to stay.  I think Galadriel means to help him, but I do not know how.  Perhaps _even_ **_she_** does not know precisely what is intended for him, only that he needs to come.”

“That _is_ mysterious.”

Thranduil went over and kissed him.  “I like mysteries.  It was a mystery why I was fascinated with you, when we first came to Dale…”

“…and look how that turned out.”  Bard whispered against his lips and put his hand on the back of Thranduil’s head and plundered his mouth.  “I’ll never forget the moment I saw you up on that beast, with your nose in the air…”

“Oh, _Meleth_ , what you saw was an Elvenking, bowled over by the sight of the man before him.  I did not want admit it to myself then, but something in me _knew_ you would change the course of my life.”

“Well, I’m glad you did _something_ about that…” Bard rubbed their noses together.  “Speaking of ‘something,’ love, how long till lunch?”

“The bell should ring in half an hour.”

“Good.”  Bard put his hands on Thranduil’s chest and pushed him over to the bed, and onto his back.  He reached for the lacings and pulled them apart and exposed the Elf’s half-hard cock.  “You are so beautiful…”  He began to lick wet stripes up to the tip, enjoying the moans he elicited from his husband.

“Oh, Bard…” 

“Mmmm…”  Bard began to suck on him, and wrapped his fingers around the shaft, as he flicked his tongue over the head rapidly.  When Thranduil’s hips bucked up, Bard hummed louder in encouragement and lightly ran his fingers over the sensitive skin of his inner thighs and over his balls.  Then the Elf cried out and threw his head back against the mattress.  Long, smooth fingers tangled into his hair as he rapidly began to thrust into his mouth amid much moaning.

By this time, Bard had his own laces undone and his fingers around his cock, thrusting just as rapidly.  Moans of pleasure vibrated through both of them.  When Thranduil pulled his hair as he came, it sent Bard over the edge, with a moan that came from the deepest part of him.

Before he realized it, Thranduil had him up on the bed, and was cleaning him off with loving hands, then gathered the Bowman into his arms with a kiss on the head.

“Thank you, _Meleth nîn_.  That was a delightful lunch.”

“I thought we should celebrate.”

“Celebrate what, _Hervenn nîn?”_

“Seven years ago today, we first met on the Forest River, and you gave me a job delivering your wine.”

“Really?  That was this date?”

“It was.  I’ll never forget the first time I saw you.”  Bard snuggled in and closed his eyes.  “You were magnificent to look at, to be sure, but I was too nervous and too desperate to think much about it, then.  I felt so… _beneath_ you.”

“It hurts me to know that, Bard.  I never thought as such; in fact, I liked you.  I must be honest and say that I felt no stirring of my _fëa_ , then.  Your heart was in pieces; your grief was palpable.  It was easy to see that, because I was the same way.”

He sighed.  “It was a weight that threatened to crush me, back then.  When you told me the Master had sent you a letter denouncing me, I thought I was finished, and didn’t know what to do.  If I had no way to feed my family, there was no reason to even go on.”

“Oh, _Meleth nîn_ …”  Thranduil kissed his hair.  “I am sorry to hear that.”

 “I didn’t care whether I lived or died, to be honest, but that day showed me I might learn to hope again.  It was more than just a job, to me; all those quiet trips on the River helped me learn to live again.  In the winter, the ice sparkling on the branches was beautiful to look at, so different from the dull grey of Laketown.   The summer flowers and all the greenery showed me that life goes on, and it would be all right.”  Bard sighed again.  “I spent many nights lying there on the Barge, looking up at the stars, talking to Mattie...  I did a lot of my crying in the dark, too.  There was a so much pain and grief I couldn’t even share with Percy.”

Thranduil ran his fingers through his thick curls.  “I shared the worst of my pain with the same stars…”

“Mírelen and Mattie must have heard us, and decided something needed to be done.”  Bard smiled.

“Bard?” Thranduil asked him.  “When you first saw me in Dale, did you feel something, too?”

“I’d love to say yes, but I was too hungry and too worried.  We had so many that were sick, and the children were in real danger of perishing.”  He chuckled.  “I will say that the night of the Battle, when you took me to my tent and helped me into the bath, I knew you were checking me out.”

The Elvenking raised his head.  “I was not!”

“Oh yes, you were!  I saw how your eyes gave me the once-over, and it wasn’t just to check for bruises or broken bones.” He raised his head to meet Thranduil’s eyes and grinned.  “Unless of course, you thought my cock was broken and needed closer examination.”

Bard’s answer was a sharp tug on his hair.  “Ow!”

“You are a crude Bowman,” the Elf narrowed his eyes.

“Perhaps, but I am _your_  crude Bowman, and you love me that way.”  Bard reached under his tunic and played with his nipples.

“I do.”

 “I hope my cock was everything you hoped it would be.”

“Mmmm…  It is.  Especially when it is inside me.”  Thranduil wrapped his arms around Bard again and kissed his temple.

“To answer your question, the night when you helped me into the bath was what started it, I think.”

“Because, as you say, I ‘checked you out?’”

“No.  It was the first time you showed me kindness. I started to think of you differently the next day in your tent, when you told me the truth about why you tried to leave the Battle.”

“You _pitied_ me?”

“No, no love; nothing like that,” He kissed Thranduil’s shoulder.  “I didn’t feel pity at all - I felt... honored.   You came out from behind that ‘mask’ you were wearing, and allowed yourself to be vulnerable with me.  I knew you wouldn’t do that for just anyone.  Something stirred in me, and wanted to know what it meant.  Then, we came to your tent for dinner and you gave Tilda her doll.  She came alive again like magic, and when she hugged you so tight, I saw the look on your face, and knew I was in love with you.”

The two of them enjoyed several deep kisses, before Bard asked, “Tell me:  how did you find Charlotte, in the first place?”

“Ah.  Well, I must confess something.”

“What is that, love?”

“I watched you and your family the night of the Battle, when you were sitting around the fire.  I wanted to see if you were all right, and wondered if you had found your children.”

“I didn’t see you.”

Thranduil sighed.  “I didn’t want to be seen. I had been confronted with all of my failures that day, especially as a parent, and I wanted to see you with your children.”

“Why?”

I... forgot how be affectionate and loving to Legolas and Tauriel, and... I thought I had lost them.”

“You were lonely.”

“Very.  I had seen your children around the camps before the Battle, of course, but always from a distance.  You had nothing but the clothes on your backs, but were… _happy_ with each other, and I…”  Thranduil swallowed.  “After I set you up in your bath, I was walking through the rubble, and found the doll lying there in the streets.  It’s face was full of bloodstains, and I could see why Tilda thought it was frightening.  I sent it back to the Palace to see if Glélindë could fix her.”

“That was way before you and I even knew we cared for each other.” Bard was amazed.  “Why would you do that?”

“The state Tilda was in that night, and the look on your face when you held her, tore at my heart.  It was how I felt when Tauriel was weeping over her dead Dwarven Prince.  There was nothing I could do to ease her pain, and I felt helpless. I thought if I could help your child, it might help me bear my own loss.”

Bard rolled on top of Thranduil and looked deep into his eyes.  “ _Ci velethron e-guil nîn_ , _Aran nîn.”_

Thranduil smiled and held the Bowman’s face in his hands, kissed him, and replied, “And you are the love of _my_ life, My King.”

 

 

At the lunch table, the children were eager for their afternoon in the training hall with Tauriel and Thranduil.

“Where is Rhian?” Thranduil asked.  “Could she not come?”

“She had a session with Hannah this morning, and will come after Darryn wakes up from his nap.”

“I can work with you for about two hours,” he told them, “then your Da and I need to go to the Healing Hall to visit Mistress Ellyn and her children.”

“I’m not allowed to jump around,” Tilda asked, “but I still want to go with you and Tauriel.  Can I just watch?”

“Of course, you can,” Bard told her.  “Daeron checked you over and said you were fine, so Tauriel can show you a few moves you can learn, even now.  But you must do whatever she and _Ada_ tell you.”

“I can also help with Darryn.”

“Yes, you can, _hênig_.”  Thranduil put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.  “But after we are done, I want you to take a nap.  Galion and Hilda will be in their offices, so they will listen for you.”

“Okay, _Ada_.”

“It stopped raining,” Bain observed.  “Maybe we can go out, later.”

“I doubt that; more storms are coming; bad ones.”  Percy said. 

“How do you know, Uncle Percy?” Tilda wanted to know.

“Years and years of working on the Lake, Little Bean.  I can feel it in my bones.” He winked at her.  “Bard, I’ve ordered a carriage to take you to the Healers at half past two.” 

“I pray for good news.” Galion said, and everyone around the table nodded their agreement.

“Me, too.”  Hilda said. 

“Will Bowen and Maddox’s Mam get better?”

“We sure hope so, Beanie.  But we’ll do everything we can to help.”

“ _Ada_ is very powerful, and he can fix _anything!”_ Tilda looked up at him with confidence.

“Oh, _Tithen Pen_ ,” Thranduil smiled sadly, “if only that were true.  Sometimes, things happen that are beyond all of us. Whatever happens, your Da is right; we will help them, just like we will help anyone in need.”

“Can I go with you, Da?”  Sigrid asked him.

“Sorry, darling.  I think this is a time for immediate family.  _Ada_ and I just want to offer our presence and support.”

“Let’s hope for good news.” Bain said, held up his crossed fingers.

 

 

The carriage arrived at the steps of the Great Hall, just as Daeron and Turamarth approached.

“Hello, Powell!”  The Guard greeted the driver, then looked at Thranduil. “My Lord, if it pleases you, I would like Turamarth to join us.  I want to introduce him to young Bowen...”

“That is a good idea.”  Thranduil turned to Ivran.  “You may take a break, if you wish, Ruvyn, you will accompany us.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”  Ivran saluted and went back into the Great Hall.

After Daeron opened the door for the Kings and Ruvyn, he and Turamarth jumped onto the runners and hung on to each side and away they went. 

“Here we are, My Lords.”  Powell called down as he pulled the white horses to a stop.  The young man was dark-haired, like his father, but his face was merry like his mother, and shared her ruddy cheeks and curls. 

“You do not have to get down, Powell; we will escort the Kings.”  Daeron jumped down and opened the door closest to the entrance of the Healing House.  Once out, Turamarth stepped around and quickly scanned the crowd for any sign of trouble, then went behind the Kings as they entered. 

“Lord Bard!”  Bowen came up and wrapped his arms around the King.  Daeron was met with smaller arms, as Maddox wrapped his arms around the Guard’s knees.

“Hello, son.  How are you?”  Bard looked down at the Bowen’s worried eyes. 

“Daffyd and Anna are in with Mam and the Healers now.”

 “Are you here to see Mam?” Maddox asked them.

“Yes, child, but we are also here to see if you boys are well.”  Thranduil smiled kindly down at the small face.  “We did not think you would like to wait by yourselves, would you?”

Maddox shook his head, but Bowen looked down at his feet and tried to fight off tears.  “Thank you,” he whispered quietly.

“Bowen?”  Daeron came over and squatted in front of the boy.  “There is someone I would like you to meet.”  He motioned for his cousin to come over.  “This is my friend Turamarth.”

“Are you brothers?  You look alike.”

“No, we are cousins, but we grew up like brothers.” Turamarth answered with a grin. “Our mothers are identical twins. He looks like me, but,” he leaned forward and whispered, “I am better looking.  Don’t say anything to Daeron; he gets touchy about it.”  The Elf held out his hand, and Bowen shook it.  “I am very pleased to meet you.  And this is your brother?”

“Yes, this is Maddox.  I call him Mad, or Maddie.”

“Hello, Maddox.  Or, as we say in Sindarin, ‘ _Suilad, Maddox.  Turamarth i eneth nîn.’”_

“What does that mean?” 

“‘Greetings, Maddox.  My name is Turamarth.’”

“Wow…” The little boy breathed.  “Is Sindarin hard?”

“Not to me, but I only learned to speak in your language last winter.  My cousin is hoping you and your brother will help me learn even more, and in return, I would like to teach you both to ride our Elven horses.”  The Guard turned to Bowen.  “And eleven is old enough to begin the basics in archery, if you are agreeable.”

“Really?”  Bowen’s eyes held a little spark.  “But… I don’t know when…”

“Worry not, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  Just know that when you are ready, you must allow me to teach you, because,” he whispered conspiratorially, “I am much better with a bow and arrow than Daeron.”

“You are?” he asked Daeron, who nodded his head.

“No one is a better archer than King Bard!” Madd said with loyalty.

Before anyone could come up with answer for that, Elénaril came out to the waiting area to get the boys. 

“Your mother wants to see you,” she smiled and held out her hand. 

“Can Daeron and Lord Bard come?” Bowen asked, groping for the King’s fingers and held them tight. 

Elénaril saw the situation.  “Yes.  I think your mother would approve.  Could the rest of you wait here, please?”

As they made their way through to the residential area, Bard prayed silently.   _Please… let her be all right…_

They came to Ellyn’s room, and saw Daffyd and Anna sitting on either side of her bed.  Anna was holding Ellyn’s hand, and the tears in her eyes and the splotches on her face told Bard everything he didn’t want to know, despite the brave smile Ellyn gave her sons, as she held out her arms. 

_Oh, no… it can’t be…_

Ermon came out to greet them, and motioned for them to go in the hall.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Bard whispered.

The Chief Healer put his fingers to his lips, shut the door and took them over to an empty room.

“I am afraid it is, My Lord.  We have examined her twice to be sure, and have discovered the disease never started in her brain, but from a large spot on her back.  Humans often have ‘moles,’ so I imagine she thought nothing of it.  It’s location on her back would prevent her from noticing any changes.”

“Hardly anyone in Laketown had looking glasses, and there was precious little medicine for such things.”  Bard said sadly.  “I’m sure had you Elves found it early on, it could have been easily dealt with, but…”

“It could have been,” Daeron added. “I used to see it in Old Dale, and searching for such things became part of a regular examination there.”

“And it will be again; I’ll see to that. Is there _nothing_  to be done?” Bard asked. 

“It is everywhere, My Lord.  In her lymph glands, in her organs and in her bones, even.  I am so very sorry.”

“How long does she have?”

“Weeks.  We can make her comfortable, for as long as possible.  Mistress Ellyn has stated she does not want her children to see her in pain, so when it becomes too great, she will be put into a deep sleep, so she can slip away peacefully.”

Bard closed his eyes and shook his head.  “I just can’t believe –“

“NO!”  A loud, outraged voice was heard from the room.  “That’s a lie! You’re lying!  It’s not true!”

The door slammed open and Bowen took off down the hall. 

Instantly, Bard and Daeron ran after him. 

“Bowen!” Daeron called.  “Wait!”

But the boy didn’t slow down until he reached the waiting room, where Bard found him in front of the Elvenking screaming in fury.

_“You’re supposed to be this powerful Elf, so why are you sitting out here, doing nothing!  You’re a KING, and you could make them HELP HER!”_

Before Thranduil had a chance to respond, the boy looked at Daeron and his lip curled with contempt _.  “YOU said the Healers know even more than you do!  I saw you fix Mad’s foot.  I saw you!  You got all bright and he was better!  But you’re going to let Mam die?  Can’t you help her?”_ Bowen began to cry.  _“Please… I can’t lose her, too.”_ He brushed his sleeve over his eyes.

“Son…”  Bard began, reaching for his shoulder.

Bowen’s head whipped up in fury. _“Don’t you DARE touch me!  You don’t get to come anywhere near me again!  And don’t EVER call me your ‘son!’  Only my Da did that and he’s DEAD!  I talked to the stars, just like he told me to, and Ulmo was supposed to send help!  Da said he would help me!”_ he said between gritted teeth.  His hands were clenched so hard his knuckles were white.

“I am sorry, Bowen.”  Daeron said in a soothing voice.  “Did they explain things to you?”

 _“It’s not true!  It’s NOT! I believed… in all of you!”_ Bowen’s breath caught. _“Da **said** to talk to the stars and he would send help; he promised!  H-he **promised me!** I can’t…. He...” he sobbed, “...and now Mam…” _The child could hardly breath from shock and distress. “It’s not true...”

“Bowen,”  Bard went down on one knee.  “I promise, we’ll do everything we can to help…”

 _“Don’t ever use that word again!  Promises are nothing!  Nothing is all right when it never will be again!”_ He poked his finger in Bard’s face.  _“If my Da hadn’t fought in your STUPID WAR, he’d be here, wouldn’t he?  YOU made him fight!  And now he’s dead, and my Mam is gonna die too, and it’s YOUR FAULT we’ll be all alone!”_   The boy’s face was wet with tears of pain and outrage.  _“You… Bastard!”_ his chest heaved, as he tried to catch his breath. _“I hate you!  I hate you!”_

“Bowen, please,” Bard reached out for the boy, just as Daffyd and Anna came running out. 

“What’s wrong?”  Daffyd asked.

Everyone turned to look at the couple, so Bard didn’t see it coming.  Bowen drew back his fist and punched him hard in the jaw, knocking him on his arse.

“Bowen!” Daffyd yelled, as Anna’s hands flew to her mouth. “Don’t –“

 But it was too late.  The boy opened the door and ran into the pouring rain, just as a loud clap of thunder filled the air.

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Nan ear adh in elin… Ú!_ -  By the Sea and Stars…  It cannot be!

 _Gwador -_ My sworn brother

 _Donor –_ Oak tree

 _Ci velethron e-guil nîn_ , _Aran nîn_ – You are the love of my life, My King

 _Suilad, Maddox.  Turamarth i eneth nîn_ -  Greetings, Maddox.  My name is Turamarth

 

NOTES:

Ellyn is suffering from what we call malignant melanoma.  Sadly, not even Elves of Middle Earth can do much about it, when it progresses too far.

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bowen, in his anguish, has struck the King of Dale, and ran out into the terrible thunderstorm.
> 
> Will they find him? What will happen then?

 

 

“I miss you in waves and tonight I’m drowning.   You left me fending for my life and it feels like you’re the only one who can bring me back to the shore alive.”   
― [ **Denice Envall**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8506917.Denice_Envall)

**City of Dale, 20 th of July, 2942 T.A.**

_“BARD!”_

Everyone rushed to the King of Dale, who was laid out on the floor.

Thranduil helped him sit up. “Are you well?” he asked, as Daeron checked his jaw.

“Never mind me; I’m fine.” Bard held his jaw as he addressed Daeron and Turamarth.  “You two need to go find him!” 

He was surprised when the Guards froze, looked at each other, and then at Thranduil.

“You heard me; _that’s an order!”_ Bard was becoming angry. “What the f—“

“Bard,” Thranduil said, quietly, as he helped Bard stand, “they are not disobeying your order.  They cannot abandon their post; it is a very serious offense in my Kingdom.”

 _“Bullshit!_ That’s just some stupid technicality!” He gave his husband a look that would brook no argument.  “I _refuse_ to pretend to be helpless, when you know damned well we’re not!  This is a _child_ we’re talking about!” He turned to the three Guards.   

“We’ll stay here, and Ruvyn will guard in your stead.  You know I’m a capable fighter, and Thranduil’s one of the fiercest warriors alive today.  Now, _get your arses out there_ , find Bowen, and do whatever is necessary to calm him down.”

“Where do you want us to take him when we find him, My Lord?”

“What do you mean ‘where?’” Anna was frightened. “He’s just a child, My Lord!  Surely you can see how upset he is!”  She started to cry, and her husband put his arm around her.

“She’s right, My Lord.  He hardly sleeps or eats, and all that has taken its toll.  And now, he probably thinks he’s going to punished.”  Daffyd sighed. “Bowen is not well, and he needs a break from all this, or we may lose him altogether.  Please, My Lord; have mercy on him!”

Bard nodded and put his hand up. “We’re going help him, not punish him,” he promised the weeping woman.  “This incident is under Seal, is that clear?  No one will discuss it with anyone but those in this room.  Now, we need to keep Ellyn from getting upset, until we know exactly what’s going on.  Anna, go back and tell her we’re seeing to him; he just needs a little time.    Daffyd, I want you to go home, in case he goes there.”

The King of Dale addressed the two Guards. “It’s chilly out there from the rains, and the boy could get sick, but I’m afraid if Bowen sees a lot of strangers in uniform, he’ll go further into hiding.  I’ll give you two hours to find the boy on your own, then I’ll have to sound the bells and send every able-bodied person out to join the search.”

Thranduil nodded his agreement. “When you find him, we will trust your judgement as to what to do with him.  Lord Bard and I will visit Ellyn for a few minutes, then go back to the Castle to await word.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Another flash of lightning and clap of thunder filled the air. “Leave your armor and swords here; the last thing we need is for one of you to get struck by lightning.” Bard ordered. “We’ll get it back to you.”

Daeron and Turamarth saluted, and out the door they went.

Thranduil put his hand on Bard’s arm.  “Are you well?”

“I’ll be fine,” though Bard was rubbing and working his jaw. “If it hurts later, you can take a look.”

“I’m so sorry, My Lord!”  Anna came over to beg forgiveness. 

“Don’t worry about that.  All I care about is finding him, so we can make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”  He looked at the older couple.  “Now remember don’t tell his Mam: we’ll just say he wants to calm down a little.  Daffyd? Get Powell out of this weather.  Tell him to leave the carriage out there and wait in here, until we’re ready to leave.  Take your carriage to the Castle and fetch Ivran, then go home and see if the boy goes there.”

“Right away, My Lord.”  When the man opened the door, they all saw another flash of lightning, followed by a loud clap of thunder.  The rain was now a downpour.

“Oh, the poor boy…” Anna clutched her chest. “What if –“

Thranduil stepped over. “Come Mistress.  Do not let your mind go to dark places, until you must.  I am sure Ellyn is worried, so we will put on a brave face and help her.” He put her hand in the crook of his arm.  “I have faith in my Guards, as does King Bard.  Whatever is amiss, we will make sure young Bowen comes to no harm.”

The Elvenking led the way back to the patient’s room, to find Elénaril sitting on the bed, holding Owena, with Maddox snuggled against his mother. 

Thranduil went over and kissed her hand.  “How do you feel, Mistress Ellyn?  Are you in pain?”

“No, thank the Stars.  They’ve been taking good care of me.”

“My Mam’s really, really sick.” Mad looked up at Thranduil, with sad eyes that pierced the Elvenking’s heart.  “But she says Daffyd and Anna will take care of us.”

Thranduil stroked the boy’s head.  “I am sorry she is sick, child.  Your Mam must love you a great deal to make sure you will be looked after.”

Elénaril got up with the baby, and held her hand out.  “Maddox, would you like some juice?  I think I know where we can find some cookies to go with it.”

The boy looked up at his Mam, who smiled.  “Go on, lovey.  I’ll just talk to Lord Bard and Lord Thranduil for a few minutes.”

“Do you want me to bring you one, Mam?”

“I’d love that.”

After they left, Bard came over.  “Ellyn, I’m so sorry.  I really am.”

“Please, My Lord.  I don’t have time to lament my bad luck.  I need to spend what I have left making sure my children are all right.” She gave him a sad smile.

“Can I do anything?”

“Yes, if you would.  I can’t…” she held up her hands.  “They’re so weak now, but I want to write letters to my children.  I want them to know I’ll be thinking of them throughout their lives.”

“I will send someone over, to write whatever you dictate.”  Bard took both her hands in his.  “And I will keep the letters and see that they get them personally.”

“If you would, My Lord.  Anna will have so much to do and I don’t want to burden her –“

“Nonsense, Ellyn!” Anna protested.  “‘Tis no burden, you know that! I’m happy to do it.”

“All the same, I want Lord Bard to keep them and give them out.  This way, they _know_ their King is looking after them.”

“I’d be honored, good lady.  Would you be willing to allow Princess Sigrid to help with this?  She is eager to be of use, and her handwriting and spelling are good.”

“That would be nice.” Ellyn looked out in the Hall.  “Where’s Bowen?  Has he settled down?”

Bard smiled and rubbed her hands.  “He’s taking it hard, but we’ll make sure he’s all right.”

“I know he’s angry and upset,” Ellyn’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s all been so hard on him; too hard.  He’s such a good boy…”

“I know he is, Ellyn.” Bard smiled.  “I have some people looking out for him, so please, don’t worry.”

As Thranduil watched his husband reassure this sick woman, with such compassion and consideration, he thought about the conversation he had with Bard earlier.  **_This_** was what he loved so much about his Bowman: his genuine, easy manner that can calm and soothe the turmoil within him, within anyone. 

In this moment, he felt honored to be Consort to the King of Dale.

 

***************

_I hit King Bard…. I hit the King...  I punched him!  I punched the King of Dale!  Oh, gods; oh no!  Right in front of the Elves...what are they going to do to me?_

Bowen’s stomach turned, and he blindly ran out of the Healing House, through the streets.  His heart was pounding in terror, and he could hardly see where he was going, between the rain and the tears that just wouldn’t stop.

He had failed to do what Da wanted.  He’d tried _so hard!_   He cleaned and cooked and took care of his brother and sister, and tried to be strong for his Mam.  At night, when he couldn’t sleep, he looked up at the stars and prayed and prayed, begging Da to help him.  Bowen believed if he did _everything_ the way Da wanted, they would all be safe, and the hurt would go away from missing him. Some days it helped, and when it didn’t, he worked and prayed _even_ harder. 

But now…

Talking to the stars meant nothing.  It was _all_ a cruel lie.  Da wasn’t up there - he never was! Ulmo never even knew or cared about helping him!  Maybe there was no such thing as the Valar, either.  They were just stories people made up to feel better.  Bowen had really believed them, and now he felt stupid.

_So many lies…  Was anything worth believing in?_

It didn’t feel like it.

Finally, he stopped running, and bent over to try and catch his breath.  He looked around, and saw nothing familiar – he was lost.  The King’s men were going to come for him, and he needed to find a place to hide, so he just kept walking, dashing in between houses and alleyways to avoid being seen.

He saw the Bell Tower in the distance, and that helped get his bearings, so he continued to weave his way through the empty streets, ducking under stoops and clapping his hands over his ears when the thunder got too loud. 

Whenever Maddie cried during storms like this, Bowen would put his arms around him and sing to distract him. He’d never be able to do that again, or even see his brother or baby sister grow up. 

Bowen had punched the King of Dale, and that meant he would be put to death. All kinds of horrible scenarios played out in his head, and he imagined Maddox crying as he watched.  Would they hang him?  Cut off his head? 

It didn’t matter if he died.  Nothing mattered anymore, but he didn’t want Mad and Owena to be burdened with the shame of a public trial execution, so he’d have to find a way to do it himself.

It was the right thing to do. Bowen had no hopes or faith left, so he could just go be with Da and Mam, and…

_Mam…._

At this thought, he began to sob.  He didn’t take care of her right, and now she was sick and was going to die.

It was his fault.  It was all his fault.

Blinded with tears, he wandered into the backyard of a building, and leaned against the wet stone wall to try and steady himself, but after a few moments, grabbed his middle and began to vomit.

Once his stomach was empty, he became dizzy and began to shake, as he fell down on all fours and crawled underneath a large bush nearby.  He was wet, cold and covered in mud, but it didn’t matter.  He curled up in a tight ball, and closed his eyes, wishing he could just disappear, and no one would find him.

_So tired…. So, so tired…_

 

***************

 

 

They were looking everywhere they could think of.

Turamarth and his cousin stopped the few people out in this weather to ask if they’d seen the boy, but without success. 

He heaved a sigh. “Clearly Bowen does not want to be found. You said he is staying with the couple at the Livery, but what about their home?”

“I doubt he would go there, but we have to try,” Daeron answered. “Come on!”

The Elves ran through the streets in the heavy rain and finally arrived at Mistress Ellyn’s home.

“No wet footprints on the steps.”

“He could have removed his boots and carried them.  Come on!”

Turamarth followed Daeron as he ran up the stairs, three at a time, until they reached the landing, but the door was locked.

“Let me,” he said.  He reached down and pulled the small, thin knife out of his boot and inserted in in the keyhole.

“Do you know what you are doing?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you learn that?” Daeron whispered.

“You do not want to know.”  Turamarth worked the blade to the left, then to the right, until he heard a soft _click._ Things got easier after that, and soon the door was open.

“You _are_ going to tell me how you learned to do that, _Gwador_ ,” Daeron rolled his eyes.

“Perhaps, but not today,” Turamarth answered.  “Bowen?  Are you here?”

No answer.  They checked every room, every closet, under every piece of furniture.

“I was hoping I was wrong.” Daeron said, as after they were done checking under the beds.  The sky exploded with a flash and thunder cracked the air almost immediately. “The storm is right over us.  I pray he is out somewhere out of this…  Tur?  When the children stayed with the Kings, did they go anywhere, or do anything special?”

“Tauriel and I took them to the stables to ride the horses.” Turamarth met Daeron’s eyes.  “Maybe...”

Quickly they ran, splashing through the puddles to the other side of the city where the Royal Stables were. 

“Did you see a young boy come in here?” Daeron asked the Groomsman on duty, as they entered his office.

“Nope.” The Man looked them over skeptically.  “You’d have to be nuts to take a horse out in this!”

“The child we are looking for has run away.”

“What did he do?”

 “He was given some tragic news, and he is distraught.  King Bard has ordered us to find him.”

“Poor lad,” the Groomsman stood up. “Come on; I’ll help you look.”

The three of them checked every stall, every nook and cranny of the stables, the hayloft, the tack rooms, and even back by the manure pile, with when the sun goes down.”no luck.

“I’m sorry boys, I hope you find him.” He pulled a small flask from his pocket. “Here.  Take this, in case he needs warming up.  It’s chilly out there in the wet, and it will get colder 

“Thank you, sir.” Turamarth put his hand over his heart and bowed slightly. “We will return it as soon as we can.”

“Let me know if you find him.  I’ll keep a good thought.”

They were back out in the street, wondering what to do next.

 _“Rhaich, Limp!”_ Turamarth swore.  “It is impossible to track him in these wet streets!  If he was in the Forest, this rain would help us.”

“Maybe we should check the gates, in case he left Dale entirely.”

“Surely not without being seen!”

Daeron looked worried.  “You were here during the construction; is there a way to leave Dale aside from the Gates?”

“No. I am out of ideas, _Gwador_ , but I honestly do not think he would try to get out of the Dale. We would have heard something from the sentries.”

They dashed under a nearby awning to get out of the rain, and gather their thoughts. 

“Tell me everything you know of the boy.” Turamarth said.

“I told you this already.”

“Tell me again.  Maybe we missed something.”

Daeron repeated the story of his father’s death, and all the details of theatrical meeting in the park. 

“When Lord Bard and I met him, he knew who I was, but did not recognize the King.” Despite the circumstances, Daeron smiled.  “He thought the King was a criminal, and that I had taken him prisoner.”

“How did he know you?”

“He knew I taught the older boys at the Palace.  Ivran was the teacher for his age group.”

“That is good to know; we may need Ivran’s help, later.  You say he was protective of his brother?”

“Fiercely so.  He had been looking after the whole family, when their mother was taken ill.”

Turamarth put his fingers to his chin and thought.  “If he was that dedicated to his mother, do you not think he would still want to be in the same proximity as her?”

His cousin looked at him with confusion, which quickly turned into recognition.  “He must be near the Healing House somewhere.”

“It is possible.  We have looked there already, but perhaps he backtracked.  Let us check again.  Do not call out his name anymore.  We can hardly hear ourselves over the thunder anyway, and he might think we mean to harm him.”

“That is a good idea.”

Back into the rain they went, to the center of Dale to the Healing House.  From there, the two Elves split up and worked outward, and checked every alley, under every staircase, every back lot of the all the nearby buildings.

Half an hour later, Turamarth came to the big yard behind an apartment house two blocks away, and discovered the remnants of stomach contents.  Someone had been sick here, and not too long ago.  He looked around and thought he spied a patch of blue underneath one of the large bushes.

“Bowen?  Is that you?”

Silence. 

“Bowen?”

Turamarth crouched down and pushed some of the foliage out of the way, and saw the blonde boy curled up on his side, in a tight, shivering ball. 

He let out several loud whistles to signal his cousin, then kneeled down and tried to reach for Bowen, but the boy whimpered and shrank from his touch.

“Daeron and I have been looking all over for you,” he said softly.  “Will you not come out and speak with us?”

Bowen pulled his knees closer to his chest and buried his face. “I c-can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll arrest m-me.”

“Why would you think that, Bowen?”

“You know w-why.”  Bowen teeth started to chatter as he shook.  “I s-struck the King, and  I’ll be h-hanged.”

“That is not true, _hênig_.”

“You’re only saying that, so I’ll come out.”

“Lord Bard knows you did not mean it; he is not angry.”

“I don’t b-believe you!”  Bowen pulled tighter into himself and began to cry again.

Daeron came running up.  “Where is he?”

Turamarth stood up and pointed to the bush. _“Bowen is afraid we are here to arrest him,”_ hewhispered in Sindarin _.  “He is in shock, and we need to get him out, but I do not think we should try to force him.”_

The Guard/Healer saw the boy’s trembling, and was concerned.  _“If we cannot persuade him in three minutes, I will put him under a losta-luith, and we will go get him.”_

The Elves sat cross legged on the ground and Daeron moved the branches aside again.

“Bowen?”  Daeron sat down in the mud and leaned into the brush.  “Did you know Lord Bard is worried about you?  Anna and Daffyd are concerned, as well.  We were afraid you had been hurt.”

“That’s w-what Turamarth s-said.”  They could hear the boy’s teeth chatter.

“Turamarth is telling the truth, _Mellon nîn._   I know you are feeling badly, and I would like to help you.  Do you believe me?”

After a few moments, Bowen said in low voice.  “I d-don’t believe in anything a-anymore.”

“We would like to talk to you, but it is difficult out here in this weather.  You are not well, child; you are chilled, and we need to get you somewhere dry and warm and get you something to eat.  Please, Bowen.  Let us help you.”

“You’ll t-tell King Bard w-where I am, and he will h-have me killed.”

“He will not, I promise.”

“I don’t b-believe you.  Everybody p-promises, and Da’s d-dead, and, and n-nobody wants to h-help Mam…”

“We all want to help your mother, Bowen, but there are just some things we cannot cure; I am very sorry about that.  I know how it feels to be so helpless, Bowen.”

“You d-don’t know _anything!  You d-don’t know what it’s l-like!”_

Turamarth looked at his cousin and nodded, _tell him._

“Yes, I do, Bowen.” Daeron sighed.  “I lost someone I loved very much, too.  She was dying, and though I tried and tried with all my might, I could not save her.  You must believe me; I felt like you for a very long time.”

Bowen’s head came up, and Turamarth watched the boy search his cousin’s eyes for several minutes, finding truth in them.  Then he slowly sat upright, but still hugged his knees tight, and his shivering became worse.

“Did you c-cry?”

“For a long time.  My heart was broken, and I did not know what to do, or what to even believe.  I got better, because I had people who helped me, just like we want to help you.”

“Who helped you?”

“My family, and my friends, but the one who helped me the most was Turamarth.  He traveled a long way to see me, then he brought me back home and looked after me every day.  Bowen, I know the despair you are in.  It feels like you are drowning, and you cannot see beyond the pain you feel right now.  But my cousin took excellent care of me, and little by little I got better.”

Bowen looked at him. “You h-helped Daeron?”

“I did, and was glad to do it.  I would like to help you, too, if you would let me.”

“Are you s-sure King B-Bard’s not m-mad?” 

The Elf put his hand over his heart. “Bowen, son of Owen:  I swear, as a Guardian of the Woodland Realm, you are in no trouble.  A Guardian never lies.”   He slowly extended his hand toward the shivering boy. “Please, child, allow me to help you.  You are very unwell, and we need to get you warm and dry.”

The boy stared at the Elf’s hand for a long time, as his chin quivered, as he considered the outstretch hand. 

“We will take small steps together.  For now, only think about taking my hand, _hênig_.  Just think of that, and nothing else.”

He kept his hand steady, as child unfolded one of his arms and slowly reached out, but curled his fingers and shrank back. 

Turamarth knew the boy was terrified to come out of a hiding place that had little to do with this bush, facing King Bard, or even the rain.  Taking his hand meant Bowen would have to try and face the tragedies that had befallen him, and it was more than _anyone_ should have to bear, let alone a lonely, burdened young boy.

“You are doing well.” Turamarth smiled and reminded him.  “Only think about putting your hand in mine.  Stretch your arm and set your fingers in my hand. Nothing bad is going to happen, Bowen.”

He swallowed, and tried again.   He touched the tip of Turamarth’s fingers, then rested his hand in the Elf’s, and let it stay there.

“Very good! Now I am going to hold your hand…”  Slowly, his smooth long fingers closed around it.

“How do you feel, Bowen?”

“S-scared.”

“I know.  Do you feel a little better, now that I’m helping you?”

“Uh huh.”  They both saw a tear fall down his cheek.

“Can I squeeze your hand a little?”

He did so, after the boy nodded.  “That was not so bad, was it?  Now, can you please come toward us, just a little?”

Bowen put his other hand on the ground and scooted forward a tiny bit, and his breath quickened in panic. 

“You are doing well, Bowen.” Daeron said in soothing tones.  “Take some slow, deep breaths, and only think about how Turamarth’s hand feels.  I am going to move these branches out of the way so we can see you better.”

“I d-don’t w-want you to.”

“I know, but I need to see you, to make sure you are not hurt anywhere.”

“Okay.”

The Guard slowly pulled several branches to the side, and aside from two scratches on the boy’s cheek and forehead, he appeared uninjured.

“Do you think you are ready to come closer?” Turamarth asked him.  “Please try.”

The boy started to scoot forward, then stopped.  “Is a-anyone else out t-there?”

“There is only Daeron and myself, and we will not hurt you.  We do not even have our swords with us.”

Bowen tilted his head and looked.  Their armor was gone, and the loops that carried their scabbards were both empty.  “What happened to them?”

“We did not want them out in the rain.  We will get them back later.” The Elf squeezed his hand again.  “Can you try to come forward again?  There is only the three of us.”

“Do I h-have to go see e-everybody?”

“No.  You do not have to see anyone until you feel a little better.”

“Where w-will you t-take m-me?”

“Our home is not far from here.  Would you like to go there?” Daeron offered.

“I d-don’t know.”

“We really need to get you out of this rain, now.  You are very cold, and it will become dark in a little while.  Please, Bowen.”

“Okay.”

 Bowen slowly scooted out and Turamarth put his hands on the boy’s shoulder and smile at him.  “I am proud of you, Bowen.”

 “Nobody’s g-going to h-hurt me?” The chattering of his teeth became worse, now that he was out in the wind. 

“No one will hurt you.” The Elf took off his cloak and wrapped him up. “We won’t let them.  How do you feel?”

“I’m r-really really t-tired.” He said quietly, and began to cry.

“Shhh…  I know, _Adanneth,_ I know.  I am going to pick you up and carry you, all right?”

Still holding the boy, Turamarth used his Elven grace to stand smoothly and they carried him quickly through the streets.  By the time they reached the door of their first-floor apartment, the shivering had stopped, and Bowen’s eyes were closed. His face was very pale, and his lips had taken on a bluish color.

“Get the door open!”

Daeron quickly unlocked it, and lit the lamp, and got the fire going, as Turamarth got him out of his wet clothes and wrapped him in a blankets.  He carried the boy close to the hearth to try to warm him.

Daeron went into the kitchen and came back with the small clay pot of honey, and rubbed some of it onto the boy’s gums.  “The sugar will help.”  He opened the blanket and checked the Bowen’s hands and feet. “Icy.  Hold him still.”

The Elf put his hands on the boy’s chest and began to sing softly, until the child’s breaths were deep and regular.  Then he held each hand and foot until they lost their bluish tinge.

“His heartbeat is steady now, and his lungs sound clear.  I will get a hot bath ready –“

There was a knock at the door.

Two privates had come to bring the armor and weapons they had left at the Healing House.

“Thank you.  Go to the Castle and tell Lord Bard that we have found the boy, and he will remain here for now.” To the other soldier, he ordered, “Give Master Daffyd at the Livery, the same message, and have his Mistress gather some of Bowen’s things and bring them here.”

“Right away, Lieutenant.” They saluted and left.

“That saves me a trip.” Daeron said.  “Let’s get him in the tub – that will get him warm again.”

Bowen barely opened his eyes, as they lowered him into the hot water, and within a half-hour, had him clean, bundled in Turamarth’s thick, blue robe, and tucked into his bed under a pile of blankets. 

“Should we try to get him to drink something?”

Daeron nodded.  “We have to.  He could get dehydrated.”  He left, came back with a cup of water, and together, they sat him up and managed to get it down him, before they laid him back down, where he fell into a deep sleep.

“Go get your own bath, _Gwador_ , I will sit with him, until you are done.” Daeron offered.

The cousins each took their turn, then Daeron moved another chair into the bedroom, where they sat and talked quietly while the boy slept.

 

After the sun had gone down, they heard the boy begin to stir, so they turned up the lamps so as not to frighten him.  Bowen opened his eyes, and for a second or two looked curious, but then they could see the memories of the past days wash over him and his and he curled up into a fetal position.

“Where am I?”

“You are in our apartment, Bowen.  It is dark now, and you have slept for several hours.”

“Does anybody know I’m here?” He asked in a timid voice.

“Yes, _hênig._   Lord Bard knows, and Anna has sent over some clothes for you.”

“I’m not in trouble?”

“You are completely safe, and all is well.”

“No, it’s not.”  Bowen stared at him with said eyes, and shook his head. “Everything is wrong.”  A tear fell out of the side of blue eyes.  “Do I have to go home now?”

“No, child.  You need rest and quiet, and you will stay here for as long as you need. A lot has happened, and it caught up with you.”

“Bad things.” His breath caught, and he covered his eyes and began to cry. “Really bad things…”

“I know, my young friend.” Turamarth sat beside him against the headboard and gathered the child to him.  “I know.”

“I r-really, really m-miss my Da…”  Bowen sobbed out.  “I w-want to see him so bad.”

The Elf said nothing, just stroked his hair and rubbed his back.  

When at last he calmed down, the boy wiped his eyes.  “What about Mad and Owena?”

“Daffyd and Anna are at the Livery with them.”

Bowen’s voice shook, when he asked, “Is everybody mad at me?”

“Not at all.  They know how upset you are, and Anna asked King Bard to make sure you will be all right.”

“Okay…”  He laid his head back down, and closed his eyes.  Then a thought occurred to him.  “Mam!  What did she say! She can’t –“  His breath became shallow and he panicked.

“Shh…  Shh…  Bowen, listen to me,” Turamarth lifted the boy’s chin. “King Bard has ordered that no one speak of what happened to anyone else.  He also ordered that your mother not be told, as it would only upset her.”

“W-what did they tell her?”

“Just that you were a little upset, and we were helping you.  She knows nothing else.  Ermon and Elénaril have put her to sleep by now, so she is in no distress, believe me.”

“Will I be allowed to go see her?  Will King Bard let me?”

“Of course, but not right now, _Adanneth._   You are to rest, and if you are up to it, I can take you tomorrow.”

 “Hello, Bowen!” They were interrupted by Daeron, who walked in, carrying a tray.   “You are awake, I see.  He set it down on the side table, then checked the boy for signs of fever.  “Do you feel pain anywhere?”

 “I feel sore.” The child’s eyes were still teary.

“You were shaking badly, _Ion,”_ Turamarth told him. 

“I’m really tired.”  The boy sobbed a little and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of Turamarth’s robe.

 “I do not doubt it.  You are exhausted in every way, child.  You may go back to sleep, once you’ve had some food.”

“Why are you so nice to me?”

“Because you are a good, brave boy.” Turamarth smiled at him. 

“I don’t feel like one.”

“You are a good, brave boy, who is having a very bad day.  It happens, sometimes.  Now, let us get you sitting up so you can eat and drink.  Are you hungry?”

The boy shrugged and said nothing.

“How is your stomach?” Daeron asked.

“It feels weird.”

Turamarth helped Bowen sit up against the headboard, and handed him the cup.  Bowen was so weak, he could hardly hold it, so Turamarth helped him drink it down.

“This tea has something in it to settle your stomach.  It also has honey, the way you like it.”

Daeron set the small plate with sweetbread in his lap.  “There is butter and honey on it.  Eat as much as you can, but take small bites.”

The boy looked down at what he was wearing, with its rolled-up sleeves.  “What is this?” 

“My robe.  You were dangerously cold, so we had to put you in a bath to warm you.  As soon as you’ve eaten, you can get into the sleeping clothes Anna sent over.”

“What time is it?”  Bowen broke off tiny pieces of bread and nibbled on them. 

“Not too late.  The sun went down not too long ago.”

A knock was heard on the door, so Daeron went up to get it.

“You don’t mind me staying here tonight?”

“I do not mind.  You will stay as long as you need to.”

“But I should go back –“

Turamarth put his arm around the boy’s shoulders.  “No, Bowen.  It is time for the adults to take care of _you._ You need some time to rest your body and your mind, until you are strong again.

“How long will that take?”

“As long as it takes.” The Elf shrugged. “There is no schedule.  We will take you to see your mother, and to see your brother and sister, but then you must let others look after them, so you can get well.”

Turamarth looked to his left, as voices could be heard in the living room.  

Daeron stuck his head in the doorway. “Bowen, you have a visitor, and I think you should see him.”

“Oh, no…”  Bowen tensed up and without thinking, grabbed Turamarth’s hand, as King Bard entered the room and sat on the bed, facing him.

Bard smiled.  “Hello, Bowen.  I’m glad you’re all right.”

The boy looked at Turamarth for reassurance, and the Elf nodded and smiled.  “I told you all is well, did I not?” 

Still, the boy couldn’t meet Bard’s eyes, and tears flowed down his cheeks. “I’m sorry…”

“Bowen, you were hurting and upset.  I know you didn’t mean any of it, and I am not mad at you.  I only came to make sure you weren’t hurt or sick and that my friends here were making sure you got some rest.”

Slowly, he raised his teary eyes to meet the King’s, and when Bard smiled at him, he began to cry. 

“Oh, son…” Bard moved closer and put his arm around him, and the boy’s body heaved with sobs.  “I’m so sorry you have to go through this.”

“I…  I’m s-sorry…” he managed to get out. “I didn’t mean it…  I didn’t…” he couldn’t talk by then.  

“Shh…  You’re all right.  I know you’re sorry.  I know...  let it out, and you’ll feel better.”

“I’ll n-never f-feel better!” he managed to say.  “I miss Da every minute and now Mam is...” he couldn’t talk anymore.

“I know it feels like that now, but you won’t always feel this bad, Bowen.  You really won’t.”  Bard looked over the boy’s shoulder and met Turamarth’s with concern. “I know what it’s like to lose parents, and so does Lord Thranduil.  We understand.”

Finally, when the boy calmed down a little bit, Bard pulled back and smiled.  “I wish King Thranduil were here; he’d give you a kerchief to wipe your eyes and blow your nose.”

“That’s okay,” and before anyone could stop him, Bowen used Turamarth’s sleeve, to wipe his runny nose. 

Bard and Turamarth laughed. “Those big Elf sleeves are pretty handy, aren’t they?”  Then he became serious.  “Daeron tells me you were in bad shape when they brought you here, so I’ve asked that they keep you for a little while.  Daeron has to work at the Castle, but I’ve arranged for Turamarth to take the next several days off, to be with you.”

“But what about Mam?  And Brother and Sister?”

“As soon as you’re up and around again, Turamarth will take you to see your Mam for a little while, and you can see Maddox and Owena.  When you’re stronger, we can talk about you going back to the Livery, but not before Daeron says you’re ready.”

“You _want_ me to stay here?” Bowen looked at the Elf in wonder.  “You don’t mind?”

 _“Now_ , do you believe King Bard is not mad at you?” Turamarth smiled. 

Bowen looked back and the king and nodded his head slowly, then became teary again.  “I yelled at the Elf King.”

“He’s not mad either.  Don’t worry about it.  In fact, he made a suggestion that I thought you might like.”

“What?”

Bard whistled, and said, “ _Tulë!”_

In walked King Bard’s huge dog, who gracefully jumped up on the bed and settled down next the boy and lolled his tongue cheerfully.

Bowen didn’t smile, but he stroked the big head.  “He can stay with me?”

“Daeron has to bring him back tomorrow morning, but he can stay and keep you company tonight, until you feel settled.”

“Thank you…  Please tell the Elf King thank you.  You’re nice too.”

“High praise indeed.” Bard tousled his hair.  “We’re going to make sure you’re all right.”

The boy looked pensively down at his lap, where Thangon had rested his head, and scratched his ears.  After a few minutes, he yawned and slumped against Turamarth’s side. 

“I think we need to let him sleep some more, My Lord.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Bard got up.  “Lady Hilda sent over a basket from the kitchens for you all, and sends her best wishes.  Have a good sleep.”

Bowen barely stayed awake enough to get into his pajamas, before crawling back into bed with his arm around the huge dog.

Turamarth smiled down at the two of them, before settling down in the chair with a book.

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Rhaich, Limp!_ – Curse this rain!

 _losta-luith_ \- sleeping-spell

 _Adanneth_ – Young man

 _Gwador_ – My sworn-brother

 

NOTES:

Even in Middle Earth, dogs are great therapy…  Thangon looks somewhat like an English Mastiff, except he’s bigger, and… he never drools!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a huge believer in Support Animals (As a matter of fact, I have one...), so of course, our Kings are going to utilize them for the benefit of these people, who are still recovering from loss and so many changes. 
> 
> They help these kids in Dale a great deal.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard gets an update from Daeron on Bowen, then a meeting is held to discuss ways to help.
> 
> Later, the Kings and family receive important visitors, and after an enjoyable dinner, they learn of a special tribute for their eldest daughter, hopefully to be performed during their upcoming visit to Erebor...
> 
> Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I didn't tell you much about the song Bofur wrote, but it will be described in full (including Ori's solo at the end) very soon, as they visit Erebor.

 

 

 

**City of Dale; 21 st of June, 2942 T.A.**

“Good morning, My Lord,” Daeron appeared in the doorway to Bard’s study.

“Good morning,” Bard stood up from his desk, and closed the door.  “Have a seat.  How is the boy?”

“He was still sleeping when we left, My Lord.  Turamarth sat up with him, and neither of us were surprised when he didn’t keep his food down.  We are encouraging clear liquids and that seems to be all he can tolerate for now.” 

 “How did he sleep?”

“He woke up crying a few times, and was sick.”

“Oh, gods…” Bard looked stricken.  “Did Thangon’s snoring keep the boy awake?”

The Elf smiled. “Oddly enough, I think Bowen found the noise a comforting distraction, and it helped him relax.  I do not mind telling you,” he smirked and shook his head, “ _we_ did not find it soothing.  The dog is rather loud.”

Bard laughed. “No doubt about it.  He stays with Bain, most nights, and my husband doesn’t miss the noise at all.”

“With your permission, I’d like to keep the dog there today.  I did not want him to wake up and find him gone, especially after so much upset.  Now that we have changed Bowen to a bland diet, I will use a sleeping spell tonight.”

“You made a good call.  How long do you think you’ll be keeping the boy?”

“At least a couple of weeks.  He is in a vulnerable state right now...” Daeron gave Bard a serious look.  “I do not think he should be left alone, for any period of time, right now.”

“Are you afraid he’ll hurt himself?”

“If he does not get the support he needs, he could lose his way.  At best, I do not want to see him become an angry delinquent.  At worst, I do not want him to lose his will to even live.”

“Aye, we’ve had our share of those in Laketown.  Boys and girls who had no one to take them in hand, like to look for trouble.  I know his father asked him to take care of the family, but I know Owen didn’t mean this.”

“I agree.  I think Bowen threw himself into this frantic state, to avoid facing his father’s loss, and when he learned he was also going to lose his mother…”

“… it slammed into him all at once.” Bard blew out his breath. “So now, he’s dealing with _everything_.”

“He is.  Running their family was his way of ‘bargaining.’”

“What do you mean?”

“To his young mind, he thought if he did a good enough job, nothing bad would ever happen to any of them.  You recall him saying that he ‘prayed to the stars’ like his father instructed?  He took that literally, so for him, there was little reason to feel the pain of his loss, because he didn’t think his Da really was gone.”

“Do you think he’ll be all right, in the end?”

“Who can say?  Much of it will be up to him, and we must be careful.  I would normally admit him to the Healing House, but his mother is there – a big source of his anxiety.  If he returns to his brother and sister too soon, he’ll fall back into that pressure to take care of them.     Of course, we will take him to see his mother and family, and often, but he must to go back to somewhere quiet, where he will not feel like there are demands made upon him.”

“Turamarth can take a couple of days off, but what do we do when he has to go back to work?”

“If you remember, My Lord, Bowen told us Ivran was his weapons instructor during the winter. I also know Ruvyn assisted them, so I was thinking they could all work together.”

“This is going to take a coordinated effort, so we might as well get organized.”  Bard wrote a note and sealed it.  “Give that to Commander Feren, and meet me in the conference room in a half-hour.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Daeron saluted and left to deliver the message.

“Ivran is on duty now, Bard.” Percy got up from his desk. “I’ll go get him, and tell Thranduil.”

“Thanks, Pers.” Bard once again attacked the stack of papers in front him, trying to cram as much as he could before their trip.

 

At the appointed time, the Kings, their Aides, and the Guardians were sitting around the table.

“I’ve asked you all here to discuss young Bowen, and his immediate future.  I notified Daffyd and Anna, but she is busy with the small children, and Daffyd is out working, and couldn’t get away.  We’ll be sending them, and his mother, a thorough report of this meeting, and everything we decide will need their consent, of course.  Daeron,” Bard nodded to the Elf, "go on; this is your party.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” Daeron bowed his head, then repeated his concerns to everyone, and his possible solution.

“As you know, his mother Ellyn, has been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and is not long for this world, and the child had a emotional breakdown yesterday upon learning the news about his mother.  I will be treating Bowen’s physical ailments, and will help him through the worst of the loss to come. We are encouraging the boy to bond with Turamarth, in light of the fact that I will may be leaving in September, but he will need constant, supportive care for an indefinite period of time.”  

“I agree,” Bard said, “but I don’t want this to just be about pity, and we must be sure this care is consistent.  Bowen is going to need a good mentor throughout his life, so if Turamarth isn’t sure he can be in it for the long haul, I think he should step away now.”

“I would like to address that concern, My Lord,” Ivran spoke up, “Last winter in the Palace, there were several older children who were not adjusting well, and were acting out in destructive ways.  All were grieving the loss of their home, and many had lost one or both parents.”

“He is correct, Bard,” Thranduil said.  “We implemented a program that assigned a member of our Army to give these boys and girls the structure and attention they needed.  It has been successful to date, and the troops are still in contact with the children, and plan to continue this.”

Feren nodded his head.  “For those of our Army who remain in the Woodland Realm, I schedule short visits to Dale so they can keep up with their assignees, in addition to regular correspondence.”

“Excellent.” The King of Dale nodded, then addressed Ivran. “Bowen spoke highly of you when we first met.  Turamarth will be with him for the next few days, but the Elf can’t stop working altogether.  The reason I’ve asked you here is because I’m hoping you two can coordinate your shifts so that one of you is with the boy at all times.”

“I would be happy to, My Lord.”

“Feren,” Bard addressed the Commander, “Can you make sure the schedules are arranged so they can care for the child?”

“Of course.”  Feren agreed,

“What about Ruvyn?” Thranduil suggested. “Could he be of help?”

Daeron considered this. “Ruvyn is also is known to the boy, and would be good for him, but if he is on the list to go to Lothlórien, Commander, I would not want anything to stand in his way.”

“He has not expressed a wish to go.” Feren answered.  “In any case, I could not spare another Guard in your unit; it would compromise the safety of the Royal Family.”

Percy spoke up then.  “Don’t forget our Bain and Rhys made friends with him.  It’s not like he’ll be a recluse in Daeron’s apartment the whole time.  School will start, and we can all make sure the child keeps busy.”

“He may not be starting school with the others.”  Bard sighed. “Ellyn will probably pass away right about then, and we’ll be right back where we started as far as his emotional state.” 

“All the more reason for Bowen to have friends his own age, Bard.  We’ll follow Daeron’s lead, but this shouldn’t all rest on on the shoulders of two or three Elves. Anna and Daffyd will adopt  the children of course, but we’ll all work together.  Hilda always says, ‘It takes a village.’”

Bard considered his words, then asked Daeron, “What do you think?”

“Our immediate concern is getting Bowen through this dangerous stage, before and after he loses his mother, then widening his circle when he is strong enough.  I cannot say when he will be well enough to go back with Anna and Daffyd, but when he does, Turamarth and Ivran can spend time with him regularly.”

“Thranduil spoke up.  “I would also like to suggest something, if I may.”

“Of course, you can,” Bard told him.

“Thangon is with the boy at the moment?” the Elvenking asked Daeron.

“Yes, My Lord.  The dog seems to help settle him, much like Esta does with Tilda.”

 “Like when Tilda gets upset, she pets Esta to calm down?” Bard asked.

“Exactly.” The Elvenking answered. “She also will alert us, should she become too anxious or ill.”

“Thangon did the same, when you were in danger, Lord Bard.” Daeron said. “Ermon told me how he wouldn’t leave your side.”

 “He continues to look after his master,” Thranduil smiled. “I propose sending for a similar animal from my Kingdom for the child to keep as his own – yet another means of support.”

 “Perfect!” Bard said, and everyone around the table agreed. 

“I will send a message tomorrow, and ask the breeder to select one with a suitable temperament, and have it brought here within the next two weeks, but in the meantime, perhaps Thangon could stay with the boy while we are at Erebor?”

“I’m fine with that.” Bard looked around the table.  “So, the plan is to get Bowen to bond with Turamarth, and Ivran will start spending time at their apartment too.  Ask Ruvyn for his help, but,” Bard told them seriously, “this is voluntary, and I’m not forcing anyone to do this, but, once the commitment is made, I expect you all to follow through, so think carefully before you agree.”

Ivran sat back and considered. “For my part, I have no difficulty with it.  I am unattached, and have no family to speak of - my parents sailed when my sister was killed by spiders – so I am happy to fill my off-hours with something worthwhile, proveded it does not interfere with my duties in the Guardians.  That, of course, must come first.”

“You’re right.” Bard nodded. “We can only do our best with what we’ve got.  So: Daeron back off a bit, but keep an eye on him as a healer, until you leave in two months.   I want regular updates as to his progress.” To Thranduil And Feren, “I’d also like to know more about the mentoring program for the other children, and and suggestions for continuing this for the future. No one in my Kingdom will fall through the cracks if I can help it.”  Bard stood up and closed the meeting. “Thanks for coming, everybody.”

After everyone dispersed, Thranduil walked over to him and kissed his cheek.  “You did well, My King.”

“A lot of people went out of their way to help me, when I needed it.” Bard told him.  “My Da always told me to ‘pass it on,’ and I’ve tried to remember that.” Bard put his arms around Thranduil.  “I like how you and I can work together.  I especially appreciate you recognizing my authority here.  I don’t think it would succeed if we were co-rulers.”

“No, it would not.  I am only here in Dale to advise when you ask me, and enjoy our children.”  The Elvenking smiled.  “The rest is _your_ problem.”

“Thanks a lot.” Bard rolled his eyes. “Seriously, though, I think I’ll talk to Anna and Daffyd later on.  We could set them up in a bigger place, if they need it.”

“That is a good idea, but it is a thought for another day.” He took Bard’s hand.  “Come, _Meleth nîn_.  It is almost time for lunch, and our guests will arrive later this afternoon.”

“It’s going to have to be a quick one for me; I’m swamped.  I probably should just eat at my desk –“

“You will do no such thing!  _Never_ be so busy, that you cannot have a meal with our family.” And together, they made their way to the dining room.

 

Just before the dinner bell rang, the wagon from Erebor Came, as expected.

~o0o~

 

 

> Earlier that spring, during Bard and Thranduil’s convalescence, Dáin’s wife Dilna, the new Queen Under the Mountain, arrived from the Iron Hills with their three daughters (one heavy with child), their sons-in-law and seven grandchildren. The were accompanied by the families of the Dwarven soldiers who had decided to settle in the Lonely Mountain.  Two weeks before that, Lady Dís, sister of the late King Thorin, and mother of the fallen Princes, came from the Blue Mountains with a caravan of her people.  Word was, she would stay a year, then return home to rule their people near the Shire and the Grey Havens.
> 
> It was just as well that the Kings couldn’t make the trip to Erebor sooner.   Dwarves, being who they are, enjoyed many lively, raucous reunion celebrations, and those were best left to those who enjoyed such things.  
> 
> Erebor’s new residents were given a chance to settle into the different routine of the Mountain, and to get used to the idea that not only were Elves allies and friends now, but the new King of Dale was married to one - and not just _any_ Elf either – Thranduil Oropherion, the Elvenking!
> 
>  Naturally, these Dwarves were suspicious, and some were outright appalled.  Many had grown up hearing the stories and singing the songs of that terrible time when the Dragon Smaug came and destroyed their capitol city, and how Thranduil abandoned them.
> 
> Regardless, these newcomers had pledged their fealty to Dáin, son of Náin, their new King.  Dáin had accomplished a great deal over the winter and spring months, and Erebor was looking much like it had before the Holocaust.  They were devoted to their new King;  was tougher than most, and had a shorter temper than Thorin, but he was fair and just, and knew how to get things done, with as little foolishness as possible.
> 
> When Balin suggested a formal introduction between the Dwarves and the other rulers of the North, Dáin agreed it would be a good idea, but not without meticulous preparation on both sides.   Hilda and Galion were to travel to the Lonely Mountain, to instruct the Dwarves of the nature and culture of the Elves and Men, while Balin and Ori were to come to Dale to do the same, for the Kings and their family.

~o0o~

 “Greetings, Lord Balin of Erebor,” Bard formally bowed low, “And to you, Master Ori,” he bowed again.

“We are happy to be here,” Balin clasped wrists with Bard, as did Ori.  After they paid courtesy to the Elvenking, Balin said, “Greetings to you, Lady Hilda, and Lord Galion.  Your rooms are ready in the Mountain and we hope you enjoy your stay.”

“I’m sure we will, Lord Balin,” Galion bowed graciously.

They helped Hilda and Galion get settled in the wagon, waved them off, as servants brought the Dwarves’ luggage to their room.  

“I hope you don’t mind sharing, Balin.  It will be a while before the work begins on the Castle, so we’ve set you up in here,” he showed them Sigrid and Tilda’s room.

“Och, no; I’ve slept soundly on dirt, rocks in caves and even in the freezing rain.  This’ll be fine, laddie.”  Balin smiled up at the King of Dale.  “It’s good that you want to see to your people first.  It shows your quality.”

Thranduil looked at his husband proudly.  “I agree, Lord Balin, although it does make things a bit crowded.”

“I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to, Lord Thranduil.  I seem to remember your Halls were very open and spacious,” Balin raised his eyebrow. “Even your cells in the dungeons!”

“Ah, yes.”  The Elvenking laughed.  “Still, I enjoy living in such close proximity to our loved ones, and will miss it, when Lord Bard moves us to more spacious quarters, upstairs.”

“I hope we’re not putting anyone out.”  Ori worried.

“Not at all.” Bard assured him.  “Sigrid will be joining Tauriel across the hall, and we have set up a cot for Tilda in our room.”

“Are you sure that’s not too inconvenient?”

“Trust me,” Bard smirked, “she spends half her nights in with us anyway.  Tilda’s still at that age where she needs reassurance at night, so it’s not unusual for her to crawl between us and kick us black and blue in her sleep.”

“Bet you’ll miss that when she’s all grown up.  When Fili and Kili were small, Thorin hardly ever had a decent night’s sleep.” Balin laughed.  “But he never complained once.  Bairns don’t stay little for long, do they?”

“Every moment is precious,” Thranduil agreed.  “Especially for children of Men, but the rewards far outweigh the heartache, I think.”

“Don’t mind him,” Bard teased.  “Tilda has her _Ada_ wrapped around her little finger, and he’d spoil her rotten, if Hilda would let him.”

“As I would for all of them.”

Bard smiled at his husband, then said, “I hope you’re hungry.  Dinner’s just about ready.”

“I won’t turn down a good meal, Bard,” Balin smiled, when Tauriel came down the corridor toward them.

“Lord Balin, Master Ori!” she gave them a formal salute, then hugged them. “It is good to see you!”  Then she turned to the Kings.  “The children have finished their ride, and I am sending them to wash for dinner. Rhys had asked to be present for this, so he is here, as well.”

As soon as she said that, the noise from four kids and a sheep dog filled the air, as they talked and laughed their way toward them.

“Da!” Tilda rushed over to them.  “I rode Blossom and did the reins the _whole_ _time_ , and my hands did good!”

“That’s wonderful, Beanie!  Do you have a proper greeting for our guests?”

“Uh huh.”  She paid courtesy to the Dwarves.  “Hello and welcome to Dale.”

“You are very polite, Princess Tilda.”  Balin nodded to her and tousled her hair.

“ _Ada_ helps me practice,” she smiled at Thranduil proudly and took his hand.

“Well, you are doing a very good job.” Ori grinned.  “Hello Lady Sigrid, Lord Bain.”

The older children bowed and curtsied to the Dwarf Lords, then smiled back.

“Now that we’re done with all the greetings, let’s dispense with the titles.  This corridor is our home, and we try to keep it informal, as much as we can.” Bard clapped his hands. “Okay, Sea Monsters; get yourselves clean and to the table.  We’ve got a lot to go over the next couple of days, yeah?”

“Yes, Da,” they said.

Supper was a casual affair, where everyone exchanged recent news of themselves, and asked after other friends in Dale and Erebor.  Once the meal was over, the family and the Dwarves gathered in the Living Room, to begin to their instruction in the traditions and formalities of a Dwarven Court Ceremony.

Tilda was a bit confused, “Why is this visit so different?”

“King Dain will be holding a “Formal Court,” and we must be ready to observe their customs and traditions.  It is quite an honor to be a part of such a thing, and we must show our respect.” Thranduil told her.

 “Why, _Ada_?”  Tilda wanted to know.

“Because, _Tithen Pen_ , every Kingdom in Middle Earth is different, and we need to know what these differences are.  We must adhere to the traditions of the Kingdom we are visiting.”

“Like what?”

“Well, well one of the ways Elves show respect at Court in my Kingdom, is this,” Thranduil touched his right hand to his heart, then extended it out to her with this palm up.  “You’ve seen me, Tauriel, and Galion do this, but it takes practice, and it must be done correctly.  You try it.”

So Tilda stood up straight and imitated him. 

“That is good, but you must slow down your movements, and make your movements slow and graceful.  To make a hurried gesture is considered an insult, and you would not want to do that.  Now, slow down and keep your movements smooth, and make sure your palm is up, with your fingers are together, like so. Try again, please.”

Her second attempt showed great improvement.  “Did I do it right?”

“You did great, Little Bean.” Bard said, “ready for any Elven Court on Middle Earth.”

“What about you, Da?”

“Well, I won’t hold my first Royal Court until right before the Harvest, so we’ve got time to learn, but it’s not that different than what we already do. The men to bow, to their King like this,” Bard bent at a forty-five-degree angle and looked at the ground.. “However, if you are a ruler of your land and come to my Court, you bow like this,” he lowered to the same angle, but held her gaze.  “A King does not have to look down, because he is of equal status to the King of Dale.  Also, gifts are presented to the King, which represent the visiting country.  This is true of many Royal courts.”

“Like what?”

“Well, if the country is famous for its silks, then bolts of their finest fabrics would be given.  Rohan is famous for their horses, so perhaps they would bring a stallion or a mare.  If King Dain comes to my Royal Court, he would perhaps bring something made in their forges, or a jewel.”

“Is the Woodland Realm bringing anything?” Bain asked.

“Yes.  Three small horses, and an ancient ceremonial weapon, from my vaults.”

“What would Dale bring?”

“Good question.  We’re still new, so we’ll bring different things from our Marketplace, such as baked goods, pottery, woven blankets, things like that.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sigrid said. 

“What’s a Lady supposed to do if she’s in Dale?” Tilda wanted to know.

“Excellent question, Little Bean.  You would curtsy like you did for Balin, only go much lower.”

Rhys stood up.  “I’ve seen that, when my Da used to work for the Master of Laketown!”

“Well, don’t just stand there with your teeth in your mouth,” Bain teased.  “Show us!  Or are you chicken?”

Rhys narrowed his eyes, and gave a demonstration. “So there! Your turn, Bain.”

“Aye, Bain!” Tilda giggled. _“You_ have to do it, now!”

The boy made a face, then threw himself into the spirit of things.  He curtsied nearly to the ground, then spoke in high falsetto, “ _It’s pleasure to meet you, My Lady,”_ then lost his balance and fell on his arse.  “That’s harder than it looks!”

Percy happened to come into the sitting room just then, and caught the scene.  “What in the _world_ are you doing, boy?”

Bain answered in his high squeaky voice.  _“I’m showing them how girls curtsy to the King of Dale!”_

Sigrid had no sympathy. “And we have to that _in_ _heels_.  We also have to dance backwards, so quit your whining.”

Tilda was grabbing her stomach and giggling, Bain was hiding his face in embarrassment, and Tauriel looked at Bain like he had three heads.

 _Ai, gorgor!”_   She got up and shoved Bain back down beside Bard. “You will give me nightmares if you keep up that nonsense.  Sigrid; let us us show these clumsy oafs how it is done.”

And they did.  Beautifully. 

They even had Tilda doing a decent job of it, after a few minutes.

Sigrid did a perfect formal curtsy almost down to the ground, “See, Til? You look down before the King, but if you you are showing courtesy to another prince or princess from another land, you look up at them!” she did it again.

“Perfect!  That’s my girl,” Percy kissed her forehead, then kissed Tauriel’s cheek, “You girls are going to prevent a war.”

“Do girls _really_ have to dance backwards?" Tilda mused as she crawled in _Ada’s_ lap.  "That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Just be thankful you do not live in Gondor, _Tithen Pen._  The social customs there very difficult to navigate, especially for women.”

“Ew,” she wrinkled her nose. “I like it better here.”

“I agree,” Bard said. “But the day will come when we have to visit, so we’ll have to learn that, too.”

“But not today.” She said, relieved.

Everyone was laughing and relaxed, which made the lesson on Dwarvish etiquette go much smoother.  Balin started out by telling them about the different members of Dáin’s family they will meet, while Percy sat beside Bard and took notes. 

All the kids were curious, but Tilda asked a ton of questions, which the Dwarves answered with great patience.

 “You see, Tilda, Dwarves age differently, just like Elves, so even though Princess Alda looks to be your age, she is actually sixteen, like Sigrid.”

“Wow…” the little girl mused.  “What kind of things does she like?”

“Many of the same things you do: flowers, pretty dresses, animals, and such.”

“I’ll bring Charlotte and Daisy then.  Maybe she’ll have dolls, too, and we could have a tea party.”

“I think that would be very nice.”  Then Balin addressed Bain, “Prince Náin, is at the same level of maturity as you are, enjoys riding, archery and weapons.” He smiled, “You will be interested to know that he also likes Stratagem and Draughts and gives Bifur a run for his money.”

“Do we always have to use their titles?” Bain asked.

”It’s the same as Dale or the Woodland Realm; formal titles in public, but you must wait until your hosts gives permission to drop them in private.”

 “This is helpful Balin, really.” Bard told him.  “I’m familiar enough with Dwarves, but what can you tell me about your, what’s the word?”

“Dwarrowdams?”

“Those are the women, right?” Sigrid asked.

“Yes.  Mostly we refer to them as simply ‘Dams.’  You do know that our Dams have facial hair, do you not?”

“Really?”  Tilda was wide-eyed.  “Like beards?”

“Yes,” Balin smiled at the little girl.  “It might take a bit of getting used to, so I do not want you to act shocked, because this could be perceived as an insult.  Our women take great care with their hair and beards and you will see them decorated with jewels and beads and intricate braids.”

“Like Elves do with their hair?”  Sigrid asked.  “I think its beautiful at all the styles they can come up with!”

“Every bead a Dwarf or Dam wears means something special.  In fact, you would be paying a Dwarrowdam the highest compliment if you take ask about her hair and beard, and its decoration.”

“I’ll do that, thanks.”

“Balin,” Thranduil asked, “I am not passing judgment on now Dwarves raise their children, so please do not see my inquiry as such.  But I know that your people have a much more physical away of expressing affection.  My only concern is that our children are not used to this, and our Tilda is still fragile, so it would mean a great deal to us if you could try to explain this to King Dáin and his family?  I am sure no one wants them to be accidentally hurt.”

Balin laughed.  “You’ll be glad to know that the King and Queen have expressed the same concern.  This trip will be a good chance for all our children to learn about the other races.  In this manner, our young often show wisdom that we adults seem to lack.”

“This is true,” Thranduil agreed.  “It is our hope that the work of our generation will be taken for granted, as our young ones grow up alongside each other.  If you would make sure that they know that Tilda is not to physically exert herself, and can tire easily, we would greatly appreciate it."  

“So they don’t think I’m being snobby?” Tilda said. 

“Yes, _hênig_.  I know Dwarven children love to be rough and tumble, but that is something you simply cannot do for a while, yet,” Thranduil looked at Balin.  “My fear is that if we hover over her there, they may think we do not trust them.”

“You mean, like you hover over Tilda now?”  Sigrid teased.  “She can’t say ‘boo’ without you running to see if she’s all right.”

Bain rolled his eyes.  “You got that right.  He goes nuts over babies, too.”

“All Elves love children; especially infants.” Thranduil scowled at them, and Bard hid his smile behind his hands. "Besides, I am hoping we can take Esta with us, as she can hover over Tilda without offense."

"Yes, of course you can." Balin nodded.

“My husband is anxious to meet the newest addition to Erebor’s Royal family.  A little girl, right?”

“Yes, a Dam born to Dáin and Dilna’s youngest daughter, Vís, and her husband.  They named the child in honor of Prince Fili and Kili’s mother.”

“That’s really nice of them,” Sigrid exclaimed.  “I’d like to bring the baby a gift if that is acceptable.  I just finished a blanket.”

“It is tradition in our culture to bring gifts to a babe, so yes, she would like that.”

“I am glad, for I have something, as well.” Thranduil said.

“I’m shocked, _Ada_.”  Sigrid elbowed him. 

“Oh, cease your teasing, _Iellig_.”  Thranduil smiled and shook his head.

The rest of the evening was spent going over Dwarven formal greetings. 

“Now, it is traditional for Dwarves to knock foreheads together, but we will not require this for you.  Simply press your foreheads together, while looking in one another’s eyes.”

“What is the reason behind that?” Sigrid asked. 

“It is believed, in our culture that a person must see into another’s soul, and ‘breath each other’s air,” for a true friendship to begin.”

“Wow…  I really like that.” Sigrid said thoughtfully.

Balin and Ori continued their instruction for a little while longer, but finally Bard said it was time for the children to get ready for bed, amidst some minor moaning and protest.

Sigrid got up, “I’ll get Tilda into her bath,” and held out her hand.

“But I’m learning important stuff!” Tilda pouted.

“And you’ll learn more tomorrow, Beanie.  Now go with your sister, Beanie.”

When Tilda tried to appeal to Thranduil for more time, the Elvenking shook his head.  “Your Da is right, _Tithen Pen_ , if you get sick, you cannot go, and you would be disappointed, would you not? You can come back and say good night when you are done.”

“Okay.” The little girl frowned, but left with her sister.

Tauriel got up. “Bain and I will take Rhys home with Esta, then I will read a Tilda a story.”

“Thank you _Gwinïg_ ,” Thranduil said, as she kissed his cheek.

Bain got up with a wave.  “See you tomorrow!”

Once the children left, Bard approached another subject.

“There’s another matter which I think is important to talk about.” Bard said, “What about Lady Dís?  I know she deeply grieves her family, and we want to be sensitive to that.  What should we do?  Is she ready to meet Tauriel?”

 “I think, if Lady Tauriel is willing, and if she feels ready, she should go.  It may do both ladies some good.”

“What does Dís say about it?  I do not want our daughter to be hurt in anyway,” Thranduil told him.  “Even if Lady Dís’s intentions are honorable, my daughter is also in mourning and we must look after her.”

Balin gave the Elvenking an understanding nod. “Dís has expressed a wish to meet with you all, and especially Tauriel.  I cannot guarantee that she will keep her composure, but you have nothing else to fear.  She is eager to know the maid who captured her son’s heart and helped save her people.”

Thranduil smiled.  “She did, and I freely admit it.  It was Tauriel’s actions during the Battle that helped set the stage for all the good that is happening today.”

“You’ll be happy to know the Dwarves of Erebor know that, too.  In fact, I would not be surprised if they gave Tauriel a hero’s welcome.”

“Really?”  Thranduil exclaimed.

“Balin,” Bard smiled slyly.  “Unless I’m mistaken, there’s a story behind your words.”

“There is... a bit of a tale, yes,” the Dwarf tapped the side of his nose. “In fact, you both should know about this.”

Bard got up and refilled his tankard with ale. “You’ll need to wet your whistle, if you’re going to tell it.”

“Keep this coming, and I’ll be glad to.”  And so, Balin, the great storyteller of Erebor began his tale:

“When the other settlers came to the Lonely Mountain, Dáin knew it would take some doing to convince them that the Alliance of the North was a good thing.” The Dwarf addressed Thranduil.    The stories of Thorin Oakenshield’s Gold Sickness was common knowledge, of course, but many had no idea how you tried to warn Thror he was becoming ill, and of your surreptitious aid to our folk after the Dragon came.”

“I was happy to help, Balin.” The Elvenking bowed his head.

The Dwarf continued. “The remaining members of the Original Company regaled our comrades with the tale of our journey, and they were shocked and saddened, at the terrible change in Thorin, but cheered to learn how he overcame the Sickness (many weren’t surprised because, after all, this was the _great Thorin Oakenshield!)._    They heard the tale of his and the Princes’ demise on Ravenhill, were all deeply saddened at their loss.

“These things were all well and good, but Dáin and I were surprised at what really convinced these Dwarves to accept and support diplomacy was something very simple…” Balin said with a smile.

“What was that?”  Bard asked.

“A song!” Ori answered him with a smile.

“Not just any song, though,” Balin told them.  " ** _The_** song.  Bofur wrote and sang it at the first gathering, and…” he shook his head in wonder.  “I’ll never forget it.”

“It must have been some song.”

“Oh, it was, and I need to tell you about it.”

Bard picked up the pitcher of ale. “We're all ears.”

Balin held out his mug again for Bard to fill, and resumed his story:

“Many had heard rumors that Prince Kili had lost his heart to an Elven maid, but of course they were just rumors, weren’t they?  Most didn’t really believe it, but that night in the Hall of Kings, Bofur and some of his musicians of the Original Company stood on the dais before the Golden Floor, and they performed a ballad he had written of the doomed love between Kili the Dwarven Prince, and Tauriel, adopted daughter of the Elvenking.”

Bard sat forward with interest.  “Really?”

“It’s long and varied, but it’s beautiful.  I’m not going try to sing it for you, because I couldn’t possibly do it justice, so I will simply tell you about it…”

 

Many minutes later, when Balin finally finished the tale, the room was quiet and sober.

“Thank you, Balin,” the Thranduil said, quietly.  “I am honored to have the brave deeds of my my children celebrated.  Please extend my thanks to Master Bofur.”

Bard took Thranduil’s hand and squeezed it.  "It is really nice of them."

 But the Dwarf had told them of this song for a good reason.

“Thranduil, King Daín has requested your permission to have it sung at one of the banquets during your visit.” Balin told them. "Though you may not understand most of it, he wanted you to know of its contents, and understands the memories are painful, but he thinks performing it while you are there, could help with what we’re trying to accomplish, here.”

“Why wouldn’t we understand it?” Bard asked.

“Most of it will be sung in Khuzdul and hasn’t been translated yet.  However, the last portion, which is sung by Ori," Balin smiled at his companion, “is sung in Westron, and I think you should hear it, now.”

This made the shy young dwarf blush a deep red, but Ori stood up straight and sang his portion in a soft voice, so as not to wake the children.

When the last note faded, and Ori sat back down, all was silent for a moment, and Thranduil sat very still, staring off into space, as Ori finished.  “That was… haunting, but lovely.  I do believe you have captured the workings of my daughter’s heart, _Mellon_ _nîn_.”

“Thank you,” Ori said, shyly.  “Would it distress you or Tauriel?”

Bard looked concerned and studied his husband’s face. “I don’t know…”

But Thranduil said, “It is all right, _Meleth;_ Daín is right to make this request, and I believe he truly wants to pay homage to Kili and Tauriel. Our presence while this song is performed, would demonstrate the possibilities for the North; this is a very wise idea.”

“You really think it won’t upset you?”

Thranduil gave Bard a reassuring smile.  “It will always upset me to relive these memories, but what better way to deal with them, than to know they will serve the future?”

“I suppose I can understand that.  But what if it’s too much for Tauriel?”

“I appreciate your consideration in asking.” Thranduil addressed the Dwarves, “But I cannot speak for Tauriel, you understand. We will meet with her privately tomorrow, so you can tell her all this.  If she feels she cannot endure it, then I must either decline, or make arrangements for her to leave before it is sung.  

“I understand,” Balin told the Elvenking. “I hope you can hear it, at some point.  It's a masterpiece, in both languages.”

“I’m sure it is.” Thranduil smiled.

 

After they bid their guests good night, Bard kept his arm around Thranduil, as they quietly went into their bedchamber, and checked on Tilda, asleep on her cot.  As usual, her toys and half of her blankets were kicked onto the floor, and her leg and arm were hanging over the side.

He wasn’t surprised at all, when his Elf picked the sleeping child up, took her over to their bed, and sat against the headboard with her in his lap.

“Hey,” Bard got in beside him and cupped his cheek. “Are you all right?”

Thranduil nodded, but didn’t stop looking at Tilda.

 “We wouldn’t be here now, if those things hadn’t happened.” He whispered to the Elvenking.

“I know.”

Bard smoothed his hair. “And because of all those things, you’ve got your daughter back, and a real chance and making things right with Legolas.  You also have three more children, and a husband who shares your soul.”

 “I know that, too.” Thranduil smiled. “You love me very much.”

“And you love me very much.” Bard kissed his temple, and held out his arms.  “Come here.”

Thranduil put Tilda to his right, so the Bowman could gather the Elf to his chest.

“I was right, you know.” he whispered.

“About what, _Meleth nîn_?”

Bard kissed his shoulder and snuggled into the back of his neck.  “You and Tilda need each other.”

“We do,” Thranduil said quietly.  “But I need you the most.”

“You’ll _always_ have me, love.”  Bard intertwined their fingers and held their hands over Thranduil’s heart, as they both drifted off to sleep.

 

NOTES:

Stratagem and Draughts – Chess and Checkers

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5/19: It occurred to me that Daffyd and Anna should have been at that meeting about Bowen, so addressed that detail.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a couple of days rest, Turamarth takes Bowen to the House of Healing to see his Mam, and makes her acquaintance. 
> 
> Daeron runs into Rhian and Darryn while doing some shopping, and in the Market Square, things get exciting, but not in a good way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank so many of you who have expressed well-wishes during my mother's illness. She is doing better than any of us expected, though she has to be careful. 
> 
> Thank you also for the many birthday wishes! I've got the kindest readers ever!
> 
> W.

 

 

“There was a man who loved the moon, but whenever he tried to embrace her, she broke into a thousand pieces and left him drenched, with empty arms.”   
― [ **Laini Taylor**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/324620.Laini_Taylor), [ **Strange the Dreamer**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/48158509)

 

 

**City of Dale; 22 nd of July 2942 T.A.**

“Bowen?  Are you ready?”

The boy was dressed, but sitting on the bed, staring blankly ahead.  Turamarth sat down beside him as Thangon sat in front of the boy and nudged his hand. 

“Bowen?”  The Elf asked again, gently.

Bowen shrugged, and stroked the dog’s head absently.  “I want to see Mam, but –“

“But what, _Adanneth?”_

“I don’t want the hurt to start again.” He held his middle.  “What if I start to feel bad?”

Turamarth rubbed the boy’s back.  “I do not think you will suffer like that, today.  You have had a couple of days to rest, Daeron is helping the problem in your stomach, and you have been eating a little more, have you not?  He has made sure you sleep, as well.  As far as your heart hurting, let me ask you this:  would it hurt you more later, if you did not see your mother when you could have?”

“I know I shouldn’t feel like this...”

“You _should_ feel however you feel, Bowen.  You have faced everything head-on to the best of your ability, so far; you just tripped and fell, that is all.  It does not mean your courage went away.  You just need a bit of support until you can stand up straight again.”

“Can Thangon come?”

“I am afraid not.  We need to drop him off at the Castle, on our way.”

“He can’t stay with me?”

“Just while we are visiting your mother.  King Bard said he could come back when we are finished.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“It is.  Did you know we will be keeping him while the Royal Family is in Erebor, next week? They will stay for four days, so Thangon will be here, is that all right with you?”

Bowen looked at the dog, and nodded. “I wish this wasn’t happening.”

“Of course, you do.  Everyone wishes that when hard times come, _Adanneth._ Everyone else wishes they could tell you it will not hurt.”

“What if I can’t do it?”

“But you can, child.  We will help you.” Turamarth held out his hand. “One step at a time, together.”

After he helped Bowen stand up, the boy didn’t let go.

“Thanks for being my friend.”

Turamarth, smiled, squeezed his fingers, then took him through the streets of Dale, and to the courtyard of the Great Hall, where Bowen met a familiar face.

“Greetings, Bowen!”  Ivran smiled down at the boy. 

“Hi,” he said with a small smile.  “I have to bring Thangon back before we go visit my Mam.”

The Guard got down on one knee and looked at him.  “I am very sorry to hear about your mother, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  I am also sorry I have not seen much of you since we have come to Dale, but I would like to remedy that, if you are willing.”

The boy looked sober.  “I don’t know when I can come visit you.”

“Do not worry; I will come and visit you.”

“Come _hênig_ , we must be going.” Turamarth said, putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Bye, Thangon.”  Bowen hugged the big dog, then handed his leash to Ivran, who patted his shoulder.  “King Bard says we can come back to get him.  Bye!”

“That is good.” The Guard waved them off.

 

Turamarth and Bowen paused before Ellyn’s door.  “Are you ready?”

Bowen rubbed his chest. “I don’t think so.”

“If it does not feel like it, now, you will find that his time with your mother will bring happy memories, later.” Turamarth put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed it. 

“I’m really scared.”

“That is all right.  No emotion is right or wrong, _Adanneth;_ but what you do with them is what matters.”

“Everyone says that.”

“Everyone is correct, Bowen.  Come, child; you will not regret this.”

The Elf knocked on the door, and Sigrid opened it, carrying a small lap desk with paper and quills.  “She’ll be happy to see you,” she smiled at Bowen. “Excuse me,” and left the room.

As soon as the woman saw her son, she opened her arms, “Oh, my boy!  I’m so glad you’re here!”

Bowen slowly over to her and let himself be held.  He gradually relaxed, and, then finally spoke.   “I’m sorry Mam; I’m really sorry,” and he began to cry.  “I didn’t mean to yell and get mad.”

“Shh…  I know, I know.  I’m mad too, love.  Don’t you think another thing about it.”

“Mistress, allow me to introduce myself, I am Turamarth,” he bowed and kissed her hand.

“Anna and Daffyd told me about you.” Ellyn smiled up at him. “Thank you for looking after my boy.”

“The pleasure is mine.  I am happy to help.”

“I got… really upset, and Daeron wants me to stay with them.  I hope it’s all right.”

 “Of course it is, love.  You’re going to be all right, and that’s all I care about.  Now,” she held his face in her hands, “tell me how you are.”

“I’m…  okay.”  Bowen looked down, and couldn’t meet her eyes.

“No, love, you’re not, and I’m sorry about that, but we’ve got good and kind people who will make sure all you kids will be taken care of.”

“But, I should –“

“NO!  Bowen!  No, you should not be _anything_ except a boy!  That is all I want you to be, and all anybody expects.” She kissed his forehead. 

“But Da told me I was ‘the man of the house!’”

“Yes, he did, and yes you were, but he never meant for you to do it all by yourself, Bowen, or to feel like it was your fault, if something went wrong.” She smiled and smoothed his bangs away from his forehead.  “Oh, sweetheart, sometimes things just happen, sad things we can’t stop, no matter how hard we try.”

“But it’s not fair!”

“No lovey, it’s not, but listen:  everyone goes through terrible things.  If they tell you they haven’t, it only means they are lying, or it hasn’t happened to them yet.  Even King Bard lost his wife when Princess Tilda was born, and it made him very sad.  Did you know King Thranduil’s wife was killed by Orcs, like Da was?  It nearly was the end of him, he hurt so bad.  Don’t you see, love?  These things happen, and we get through them, because we lean on those who can help us, and they want to help us, because they know what it’s like to feel loss.”

“I don’t want you to go, Mam.” His voice wobbled. “I really don’t.”

“Oh, and I don’t want to leave you.  But let’s spend our time talking about things that make us smile, so when you remember me, it will be good memories, yeah?” she rubbed their noses together.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, I was thinking about the day you were born, love.  Did you know what your Da said the first time he saw you?”

“No.”

”Now that’s a story!  Your Da and Grandad and...”

As mother and son talked, Turamarth tiptoed out of the room and quietly shut the door and let them visit, and he went and found a seat in the Waiting Room.

 

A while later, Bowen came out.  “Mam wants to see you.”

The Elf rose to return with Bowen, but the boy stopped.  “She wants to speak to you by herself.”

“Will you be all right out here?”

“Uh huh.”  The boy nodded.  “She said she wouldn’t be long.”

Turamarth made his way back to the residential area, but not before speaking to the attendant in the waiting room in Sindarin, asking that she please keep the boy company.  He went to her door, which was open and took a seat beside Ellyn.

“How is he, really?”

“His stomach problems are getting better, and slept much yesterday.  Even so, we will be carefully watching him."

“They told me that you’ll be looking after Bowen for a while.”

“I am happy to do it, Good Lady.  Please be at ease.”

“Is he really that bad off?”

Turamarth took her hand.  “He would have been, if he were left to cope with all this alone.  But he will not be.” 

“I never meant for him to do any of that.” Ellyn told him.  “I don’t want anyone to think I expected this from him.”

“We do not, nor do we think your late husband intended this either.  Master Owen was not wrong in his words to your son, but Bowen is a child, and no one could have predicted how he would interpret his last words.  One day, your son will know this, and understand they were spoken from a place of great love, and he will forgive your husband and forgive himself.”

The Elf squeezed her fingers. “But, please; just as you do not wish Bowen to think about his upset, you must not allow your thoughts to tarry on what cannot be changed.”

She sighed.  “You’re right.  As much as I hate this, the thought of seeing my Owen again...  It gets me through the days.  I just want to thank you for doing this.  Will you be bringing him every day?”

“I plan to, Mistress.  I will also update you on his progress and state of mind.” The Elf then told her about his night, Thangon’s help, and outlined the boy’s treatment plan, including bringing him his own support animal.

“That’s a good idea.  The boys wanted a dog, and we planned to get one, but with the move, the baby and me getting sick…”

“Completely understandable, Mistress.  In the meantime, Thangon – that is his name – will be staying with us while the Royals go to the Lonely Mountain.  Hopefully the new animal will arrive by then.  As much as Thangon likes the child, he is trained to hunt, and be a protector for the King of Dale, so he must return fulfill his duties.”

“That’s very nice of Lord Bard to lend him to my boy.  I never expected the Elf King to be so generous, but I’m not going to turn it down.”

“They see what their dog, Esta has done to help Lady Tilda in her convalescence.  She calms the child, and sensed things that not even Elves can know.  Esta nurses whomever needs it most.  In fact, she looked after Maddox, when they stayed at the Castle.”

The woman tried to smile, but became teary.  “I don’t want to leave them.  I really don’t.” she wiped her eyes. 

“I am sorry,” the Elf brushed his thumb over her knuckles, “we will make sure you know everything about how the children will be looked after, and I have met Anna and Daffyd, and you can be assured that you will not be forgotten, and neither will your husband.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “thank you all so much.”

Turamarth got up from his chair. “Shall I send Bowen back in?”

“Yes, please; and could you stay, too?”

“I would be honored, Mistress.”

 

 

***************

**City of Dale, 24 th of July, 2742 T.A.**

“Daeron!”

The Elf turned at the voice calling out to him on the street.  Rhian was approaching, with Darryn wrapped in a sling to her front, and carrying a shopping basket.

“Good morning, _Hind Calen!”_ Daeron smiled at her, then teased the baby’s nose.  “Darryn, is that another tooth I see?”

“It is,” Rhian rolled her eyes, “and he’s getting weaned and quick!  He bites now!”

“Very common, as I am sure Hannah has told you.  Now would be a good time, I think.   How are your studies?”

“Lord Thranduil has been wonderful to loan me so many books from his library.  Even if I wasn’t studying, I’d read the history ones anyway!  I finished the one about Rohan last week, and he gave me a book about Gondor.  That one’s huge; it will take me ages to finish, but I don’t care.  So far, I’m only learning about the Third Age, and I’d like to learn more about Elves, by he wants me to learn about the race of Men, first.”

“I cannot disagree with that; to know your history, is to know yourself.  How are things at your home?”

“We’ve ordered some comfortable furniture like they have at the Castle, but we’ll have to wait.  The Kings keep offering to send for some from the Palace, but Da is putting his foot down: we want to pay our own way, and help put money into the city.  Our stove is finished, finally, but since the weather’s been so hot, I haven’t used it much.  Mostly we have sandwiches and raw vegetables, which is easy to pack for Da when he goes to work. I’m on my way to shop; want to come?”

“I am headed there myself.  My shift at the Healing House starts later, and we are low on food.”

“I heard Bowen is staying with you and Turamarth.”

“He is, but so is Lord Bard’s big dog.  The animal is eating us out of house and home!   Here,”  He took her basket and held out his elbow, “allow me, My Lady.”

Rhian giggled and took his arm, but that didn’t last long, as Darryn became cranky and held his arms up for Daeron to take him. 

“Here,” Rhian handed him the ring of stuffed beads.  “This is favorite toy this week.  Did I tell you he’s sitting up by himself, now?”

“No!” The Elf held the baby over his head.  “You sit up like a big boy, and you did not think to tell me?  _Ai!_ What is to be done with you, child?”

Darryn just smiled and chewed on his finger. 

“He’s trying to crawl, but hasn’t gotten the hang of it, yet.”

“I have known many babies in my life, Rhian, but this boy is the happiest I have ever known,” the Elf kissed his head, but not before he swept his dark auburn hair quickly to the other shoulder so Darryn couldn’t pull it.

“Oh, he cries and screams about as much as any baby,” Rhian laughed.  “But he really loves you, Daeron!  It’s like magic when you’re around.”

Daeron blushed and looked at the ground quickly, as his insides did a somersault.  He was thinking the exact same thing, not just about Darryn, but about the lovely woman walking beside him.  “I really love him, too.”

They reached the Market Square and their first stop was the butcher.  “Lady Rhian!” the portly man approached them.  “I vow, that boy gets bigger every week!  Now, what can I get you?”

“Good morning!  We need some ham for Da’s lunch tomorrow, and I think we’ll have a roast chicken for tonight,” she told him. “I’ll use the leftovers for soup.”

“Coming right up.  I’m glad your Da suggested those big ovens outside for the summer; they’ve been going nonstop in the hot weather!  Back in Laketown, we liked the warmth we could get, especially in the winter!”

I remember,” Rhian agreed.  “Da said you had tables and chairs set up in the shop so folks could come in out of the cold.”

“Aye, love; that we did.  Even in the summer months, that damp would get into your bones.” 

The butcher grinned at Daeron.  “Aren’t you the Elf who treated my youngest when he got into some Poison Oak last month?”

“I am.  How is he doing?”

“Better than he would’ve been without you Elves, I can tell you that, much.  These kids just haven’t been around plants all that much, to know better.  Your Commander sent his boys out to the woods and cleared the area of all that stuff and we’re all grateful.  We just didn’t know.”

“And why would you?  Laketown did not come across these plants, and Elves are not affected, so it was not something that occurred to us until your son was afflicted.  Mistress Bronwyn has samples to educate the children during the school year.”

“Can’t ask for more than that.  And here you go, young lady!” the butcher said, as he wrapped Rhian’s order in paper and string, then handed it to her with a grin, “and what can I get for your young man, today?”

Rhian looked at Daeron and laughed.  “Oh, no no no…  He’s a friend.” She looped her arm through his. “My best friend - more like a brother, really.”

“We are good friends, nothing more.” The Guard did his best to appear casual.  “I need a rather large order of beef for the next week or so.  Lord Bard’s dog is staying with us, until they return from Erebor.”

“Thangon?  Good gravy, lad!” he burst out laughing.  “Is your pantry big enough?”

“Barely,” the Elf grinned. “If you would, please send the bill to the Castle, the King insists on paying for his keep.”

“Good thing, too. Frankly, you couldn’t afford what that beastie eats.”

“The cook told me he’s enjoying the rest,” Daeron laughed.  “Aside from the snoring, he’s good company.”

“You’re an Elf Healer; you could fix that, if you wanted.” The butcher winked.

“I would, but I suspect the King enjoys complaining about it.”

“King Thranduil wouldn’t,” Rhian giggled, which made Darryn laugh, because everyone else was laughing, and Daeron tickled him.

“Tell you what, let me send my oldest boy over to your place with it; looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

“I would greatly appreciate it.” 

“Bye!” Rhian waved, as Daeron insisted on carrying her basket and the baby out the door.

They went to the baker’s next, then to the produce stand.  Daeron put his purchases in the cloth bag he brought, as did Rhian.  She put her eggs in a knitted large square with small pockets, so they wouldn’t break.

“That is a clever idea, _Hind Calen_.”

“Thank you; I saw it in one of the books, and Lady Hilda and Sigrid worked out the pattern, I could make you and Tur one, if you like.”

“You are very kind.  I think you will miss Princess Sigrid when she goes back to school.”

“Not really.  I’ll still come over in the evenings, when Da has to work late.  It’s a lot of fun when the whole family gets together.”

“I enjoy them.  I especially enjoy seeing Lord Thranduil so happy.  He was not, for a very long time.”

“I’ve heard that, but it’s hard to imagine; he’s so…  Jolly.”

“’Jolly?’” Daeron lifted his eyebrows.  “It would have never occurred to me to call him that, but…  he is much like he was before the Queen died, yes.  He was always restrained and dignified in public, of course, but in private, he did laugh quite a bit.”

They continued chatting about trivial things, until they came to the front of the Potter’s store.  A man was standing outside, with his wife, but the way he was speaking with her was hardly loving – it was cruel and domineering. 

Daeron handed her the basket and the baby.  “Stay here, Rhian. _.”_

The man screamed obscenities at the woman, and he raised his hand, but his forearm was caught in a crushing grip.

“AAH!” the man gasped.  “You’re  hurting me, you bastard!”  And tried to pull away.

Daeron squeezed even harder and whispered low, so no one could hear.  “If you utter a sound,” he whispered, “just one more sound, I will break it, do you understand me?  Do you?”

Though it was before noon, the man’s  breath reeked of alcohol.  He looked at Daeron with gritted teeth, and opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it with a grimace of pain.

Everyone in the Market Square fell silent, and watched the Guardian subdue the man easily, but did not know how to take the furious look on Daeron’s face.  He was calm and clearly in control, but no one had ever seen the popular, friendly Elf look this way at _anyone._

Luckily, Daeron was facing away from Rhian, so she didn’t see it.

In the next moment, Tom the Potter, and his three sons came running out of the shop and surrounded the man.

“Egon,” the Potter said to his eldest son, “get that length of rope in back, and tie him up.  We’re taking this piece of shit to the King.  Right now.”  The son soon returned with it, accompanied by the Potter’s wife and daughter, who quickly took charge of the poor woman, and spoke in soothing tones.

“Come on inside, dearie.  Let’s get you a nice cuppa, and it will be all right.  Come along, now.”

The entire crowd came closer and circled the man, who was still staring at the Guard defiantly, as his hands were tied behind his back. 

“You’ll pay for this, Elf.” The man spit at him. 

Daeron gave him a disgusted look, and turned to the butcher.  “He is all yours, Tom, provided you take him to the Castle straight away.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.  Thank you kindly for your help, Daeron.” The merchant clasped wrist with the Elf.

“Entirely my pleasure, Tom.”

The Potter addressed his two oldest sons.  “Boys, take him to the Castle and bring him before King Bard!”

The crowd applauded at this, and when two of his sons dragged the man away, they meant to follow, but the Potter raised his hands and shouted.  “Nothing more to see here, folks; just let Lord Bard handle it, while me and the missus look after his wife, yeah?  Now let’s all go about business like before.”

The people stood for a moment, making up their minds.  

“Look, I know we’re all mad as Mordor, but you’ve trusted King Bard this far, haven’t you?”

Well, yes, come to think on it, they had.  So, slowly the movement in the Square went back to normal although the level of chatter was loud and rapid as everyone began to talk about the scene. 

Daeron had noticed a few Elven troops had come to the scene and were escorting the men, but at a distance.  This was a good thing.  Until these last few months, these folks had been dependent on either the Elves or Dwarves for policing, but he saw that they were beginning to govern themselves and were establishing high standards for their culture.

He’d have to send for Hannah to talk to the wife immediately, he decided, as he turned back to Rhian.  “Come, _Hind Calen_ –“

_Ai, Nergon…_

Rhian and the baby were nowhere in sight, and her basket had been dropped on the cobblestone, alongside Daeron's cloth bag.  Its contents spilled out on the ground, and an orange was still rolling out toward the fountain. 

The Elf picked up the items and looked around the area, but did not see her, so he walked through the town to Hannah’s house, first.

“Fancy meeting you here!  I was just on my way to the H.H. to see some patients.  Want to walk with me?”

“Mistress, we’ve had a situation in the Market Square this morning.”  Daeron described the scene, in front of the Pottery Shop.

“My lands…  When will we ever be done with this idiocy?”

“I wish I could tell you, Hannah.  In any case, the wife may need your services. She is with Tom’s wife and daughter at their place.”

“Daughter-in-law.  Tom’s oldest is married, love.  I’ll get right over there.” She grabbed her bag and locked her front door. 

“I am afraid we have another problem.  Rhian and the baby were with me when it happened, and when I turned back to her she was gone.” 

Hannah sighed.  “That’s not good.”

“I believe she has just gone home, so I will check there.  You must see to this woman first, so I will look after Rhian until you can speak with her.”

“But what about your shift?  It starts in an hour.”

“If you would stop on your way and explain, I would be grateful.”

“That’s all right.  I’ll have to bring the wife there straightaway for examination, so I’ll tell them then.”  Hannah’s look was worried. “You take all the time you need for that girl. She trusts you, love, and so do I.  I don’t want to see her lose what she’s gained.” 

So they were off in different directions:  Hannah to the Marketplace, and the Elf went toward the Castle to the City Planner’s house.  As he approached the Courtyard in front of the Great Hall, he saw the man being dragged up the steps amid much shouting and swearing.

Ben’s house was in earshot of this noise, and he prayed she couldn’t hear the commotion; sometimes hearing things is worse than seeing them.

 

***************

 

“What in blazes is going on out here?”  Percy shouted over the explosion of noise that echoed throughout the Great Hall. 

He took in the sight of a man being dragged in by two of Tom the Potter’s sons, his hands bound behind his back, shouting and struggling and spouting vulgarities at the top of his voice.

“These fucking bastards don’t want to mind their own business, that’s what!  What I say and do with my wife is my own fucking business and none of yours!”

“Keep your filthy mouth shut!  You’re speaking to the Steward of Dale, you maggot!”  Egon shook the man’s arm.  “Begging your pardon, Lord Percy, but we didn’t know where else to bring him.  We’ve got a situation and this man needs to be brought before the King.”

Percy didn’t have to look to see he was flanked by at least two Elven guards, and the doors leading to the back corridor had been shut and locked.  No doubt there were more guards behind that, too.

“SILENCE!” Percy held up his hand.  “Shut up, or those ropes will be replaced with irons, and I’ll have you gagged!”

“Stay here with him,” he told one of the guards, then to the other, he said, in _sotto voce,_ “The children are with Lord Thranduil and Tauriel.  Find them and keep them away, until we give the all-clear.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the Elf saluted and ran out the door.

The guards opened the doors to the back halls as soon as Percy identified himself.

“Everyone is locked in their rooms and offices, My Lord.”

“Excellent.  Keep these doors shut, and I want four of you to flank us when King Bard and I go back out.”

Bard was not at all happy, when he unlocked his door to let Percy in.  “I don’t like hiding like this!”

“You want some cheese to go with that whine?"  Percy crooked an eyebrow.  "This is protocol for safety, and it's there for a reason."

The Bowman sighed.  “So, what’s up?”

“I’ve no idea what the man did, but he’s drunk and out of control.  He’s unarmed, and bound, but I’m ordering the corridors to remain sealed, all the same.  I also sent a messenger out to waylay the rest of the family.”

 _“Shit!”_ Bard ran his hand over his face.  “I’m going to have to tell Ben to get the dungeons finished as soon as possible.  It was naïve of me to think we wouldn’t need them yet.”

“Honeymoon’s over, kid.  If we need to lock him up, send him to that shack near the ice-house.  It’s far enough away from everybody and would be easy to guard and easy to spot, if he got out.” Percy looked at him and shook his head.  “Tom’s boys brought him in, and it got me thinking:  It’s time Dale had a sheriff, Bard.  One of our own.  We’ll need the Elves for quite a while, but I think you should think about it.”

“You might be right, but there isn’t anything I can do about that until after all this traveling is done, and I can get caught up.”

“Fair enough.”

Bard sighed, then turned to Ruvyn, who was his Elven guard today.  “Come on; let’s go see what we’re dealing with.” 

“Of course, My Lord, but you are not going without your sword and knife.” The Lieutenant was firm. 

“I had to arm myself, too,” Percy raised his arms and turned to his side to show him.  “I wear it well, for an old man, eh?”

“Stop it, you.” Bard buckled his belt with his scabbard and knife.  “I’ve got to pretend to be official and scary out there.”

Ruvyn hid a smile, then looked down at Thangon.  “Do not forget your ‘other guard,’ My Lord.”

“Quite right. We’re lucky Bowen brought him over.” Bard addressed his dog.  _Ma nálde férime_ , _Thangon?  Tulë!”_

The beast got up and went immediately to Bard’s side.

When they approached the double doors leading to the Great Hall, the doors opened before them, and they saw the man still furious and struggling, though it seemed Tom’s boys had him well in hand.

As they approached, the man lip curled, and he began to strain and kick with all his might, then--

Percy had to smile, at the man’s reaction, as he watched the hair on Thangon’s back rise straight up, and a low, menacing growl rumbled in his chest.

Bard walked up to the man, stood toe to toe, and stared into his face. Without taking his eyes from him, the King of Dale, said in a voice that dripped with governance and authority, _“Thangon; Undu; serë!”_

Instantly the dog dropped to the ground facing the man, but his normally lolling tongue was gone, as he gave the prisoner a look that meant business.

There was no doubt the King of Dale was in charge of this room.  _Well done, my boy,_ Percy thought to himself.

“Tell me everything that happened, Egon; keep to the facts, if you would.” Bard still stared at the man, who had the good sense to lower his gaze.

“But –“ the prisoner began.

The dog didn’t move a muscle, but growled again, and narrowed his eyes, and offender fell silent.

 

***************

 

“Rhian?  Are you here?” Daeron set down the basket she had dropped, and knocked on the front door of her house. 

No answer.  He stepped down off the stone porch and looked up at the large house.  Where could she be? 

Ben, Rhian and Darryn, only lived on the first floor, at this point, somewhat like the Royal Family did, but Bard was adamant that Ben (now “Lord Ben”) be given this home, just as Alun was given one just about the same size.  They both held official, important positions in the Kingdom, not only as Treasure-Keeper and City Planner, but the titles they also received as members of the King’s Council demanded appropriate housing in keeping with their stature in the Community.

But for now, Rhian (now, “Lady Rhian”) was happy to keep house and take care of her father and son.  All the “frippery,” as Percy called it, would come, after the rest of Dale were settled and comfortable.

The Guard picked up the packages again, and decided to walk around the back, to the house’s expansive garden.  As with housekeeping, Rhian kept the grounds of their home with her usual meticulousness and eye for detail and found it relaxing to spend time digging in her flower beds, while Darryn took his afternoon nap on a blanket. There was a large the shade tree, that somehow managed to thrive in the ruins, and Ben had placed outdoor furniture underneath it.

As he suspected, she was out there, only instead of playing in the dirt, she was sitting on one of the outdoor chairs looking out at nothing.  The back door was open, probably so she could hear the baby when he woke.

The Elf went inside and set the food on the counter, and returned to the backyard and took the other chair. 

“Your flowers are doing well, I see.  I especially like the irises.  I think they are my favorite flower.”

“Mine, too.” Rhian looked down at her lap, but said, “I sent the bulbs to Da in the early spring.  I don’t know how he found the time to plant them, and I didn’t think they’d bloom this year at all.”

“I am glad they did, _Hind Calen_.”

 Rhian sighed, but didn’t look up.  “I saw them at the Palace, and Lord Thranduil’s gardener was kind enough to let me have some.”

Daeron looked at the cheerful yellow blooms. “These are cheerful, but I have to confess, like purple irises the best.”

“Purple is my favorite color, too.”

“Then I will have to make sure you plant some in the fall.  Hilda tells me you have big plans for your garden, next year.”

“Aye.” The girl swallowed, and quickly wiped her eye. “I want lots of colors. I want pink lilies, too. Tons of them.”

“Lady Tilda will like that.  Pink is her favorite color.”

Rhian worried the fabric in her skirt for several minutes, then said, quietly, “Thank you for bringing my basket.”  Her lower lip wobbled. “I’m sorry I dropped it, but…”

Daeron came over, kneeled before her and looked into her eyes.  “I am sorry I left you alone.”

“No, Daeron; you did right.  Nobody should have to go through that, and I’m really glad you helped her.”

“I am, too.  I also understand why you left so suddenly.  Do not apologize for that, Rhian; just tell me how you feel, if you can.”

She paused for a few moments, then said, “It was like my chest was crushing me, and I couldn’t breathe.” She wiped her eyes again.  “I’ve been doing so well around people lately, and I was almost feeling normal again.  Then this happened, and now…”  she looked at him.  “I don’t know.”

”What makes you think this way?”

“I know how sick I was at the Palace. At least, _now_ I do.  It’s like, when I look back, only now can I see how bad off I was!  I’m scared, Daeron! What if I go back to that?”

“Do you have those bad feelings now?”

“Aye.  I’m all in knots.” She looked down.  “I’m a mess, and I’ll _never_ get better!”

“Yes, you will, _Hind Calen_.  You are better off than you think.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it is true.  Have I ever lied to you?  Ever?”

“No.”

“Then believe me, when I tell you that _no one_ gets through life unhurt and unscarred.  I have my own share of memories I struggle with.  Yes, you are reliving feelings of your past trauma, but you are much better, and I can prove it.”

“How?” The hopeless look on her face tugged at his heart.

He held out his hand, and slowly she took it.

“Would you have let me hold your hand, before this, without flinching?”

“Well…. no?”

“You are feeling badly, yet you are allowing someone to touch you.  Do you see that?  It is one thing to feel good and do this, but look,” he squeezed her hand, as she looked at them. “You feel stress and anxiety, but what about the other feelings that kept you away from others?”

“Like when I felt like I had bugs crawling all over me…”

“Yes.  Do you feel like that, now?”

“Well, no,” she said in a small voice.  “But that’s because I trust you.”

“What about your Da?  And Darryn?”

“I trust them, too.”

“Hannah?  Sigrid?  Hilda?  Even Lord Bard has hugged you, has he not?” He smiled at her. 

She nodded her head.  “But what about everyone else?”

“Rhian,” he told her seriously.  “It is normal to only allow a certain circle of loved ones to come close.  Almost everyone does that.  If you are waiting to trust every person you meet to decide you are better, then you will be disappointed.”

“Why didn’t I know that?”

“When did you ever have the chance to learn?” he took both her hands in his and kissed them.  “No, _Hind Calen_.  You are feeling better already. I can see that, can you?”

She stared to smile a little.  “I think so.  I mean, it will take a bit, but…”

“Give it a few days, and do not brood.  I spoke with Hannah, and she will come later.  She was going to examine the man’s wife, then she will come here when she is done.”

Rhian sighed in relief.  “That’s brilliant.”  Then she looked into his eyes and laughed, “I must be such a bother.”

“You are no such thing, Rhian!” Daeron shook his head.  “Why do you say such foolish things?”

“You’re always so good to Darryn and me.  Why?”   

> _Because you deserve the very best that life has to offer, and I want to be the one to give that to you._
> 
> _Because I want to marry you, and give up this eternal loneliness and grow old with you._
> 
> _Because I love your son like he is my own, and want us to have more children, and bring them up together._
> 
> _Because I want to die in your arms and share your afterlife, and never be apart from you._
> 
> _Because you are utterly beautiful, and you set me on fire whenever I look at you, and when I close my eyes and dream, it is always about you._
> 
> _Because, Rhian, daughter of Ben, mother of Darryn, I am hopelessly, desperately, eternally in love with you…_

“Because I have never had a sister.”  Daeron swallowed, plastered a casual smile on his face, and shrugged.  “This is what big brothers do, I am told.  I am to pull your hair and dip it in ink, play pranks and tease you mercilessly, but beat the stuffing out of anyone who even _thinks_ about doing the same thing.”

Despite her mood, Rhian giggled. “I think that’s how it works.”

“It is also my job to be a shoulder to lean on, when you need it.  Now, come on.” He stood up, and held out his hand.  “I will make some lunch, and you will eat every crumb, is that clear?”

 

A couple of hours later, Hannah came, and told them that the woman was admitted for observation.  She was covered in bruises, but they were being taken care of.  Hannah will be counseling her like with Rhian, which everyone thought was a good idea.

The husband was indeed locked up near the ice house under guard, and would remain there until Bard could get a court together which wouldn’t be until after their return from the Wedding next month, or possibly after.  They all knew King Bard was putting the trial off deliberately, so as to give the wife time separate from her husband, to help her see clearly. 

Once Hannah finished apprising them of all this, Daeron made ready to leave.  “I must start my shift at the Healing House; I will leave you and Hannah to talk.” He picked up the baby and tickled his belly, which made him laugh.

Rhian walked him to the door, and said goodbye, but not before throwing her arms around him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed his cheek.  “I like having a big brother.”

He mustered a smile, kissed her brow, and said, “I am honored, Rhian.  Now, have a nice chat with Hannah, look after Darryn, then make the rest of this day whatever you want it to be, yes?”

 

Before he turned to go to the center of the City, he stopped at the Castle and asked to see King Thranduil.

“How soon could I leave Dale, My Lord?”

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Adanneth_ – Young Man

 _Hind Calen_ – “Green Eyes” (Daeron’s pet name for Rhian)

 _Ai, nergon…_ \- Oh, no…  (lit.  Oh, lament…)

 _Ma nálde férime_ , _Thangon?  Tulë!_ \- (Quenya) Are you ready, Thangon?  Come!”

 _“Thangon; Undu, serë!_ – Thangon: Down, stay.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The preparations for Erebor don't quite go as smoothly as the Kings had hoped, and their differing cultures don't always mesh well, but Bard finds a way to smooth things over.
> 
> Then, the family is off! Introductions are made and the many ceremonies begin, and so far, everyone is behaving beautifully. Bard helps his husband out in an unusual way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a tribute to Leemitage, Peter Jackson, and New Zealand, some of the official Dwarven ceremonies are taken from my research on the Maori Welcoming Ceremony. Hope you like it.

 

“My heart no longer felt as if it belonged to me. It now felt as it had been stolen, torn from my chest by someone who wanted no part of it.”   
― [ **Meredith T. Taylor**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7456408.Meredith_T_Taylor), [ **Churning Waters**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/27080282)

****

 

**City of Dale, 26 th of July, 2942 T.A.**

There was much excitement in the Castle: The entire Royal family will travel to Erebor tomorrow, for four whole days!

Tilda’s excited chattering was non-stop, in anticipation of meeting Princess Alda (who she _just knew_ was going to be her new best friend, and isn’t it _exciting!)._ As much as everyone loved her, she’d been driving them up the wall.  Even her _Ada_ spoke to her about it:

“If you get this all built up in your mind, Tithen Pen, Princess Alda will never reach your expectations.”

“But I’m excited!”

“I know, but just remember your manners, and let things happen naturally.  She may be very nervous to meet you.”

“Why?”

“Maybe she is shy.  You know yourself, that you like to hang back and wait for a few minutes before you feel comfortable with strangers.  Am I correct?”

Tilda thought about that. 

“You do not like it when a person you do not know, runs up to you and gets too near, right away.  Perhaps Princess Alda is the same way, and you do not want to make her uncomfortable.  That is not a good first impression, is it?”

“No…  I guess not.  All right,” she rolled her eyes dramatically.  “I’ll try to control myself.”

“That is all I ask.” Thranduil kissed her hair and sent her off to finish her packing.

Several large trunks had arrived from the Palace a few days before. Rather than burden the already-frantic Tailors in Dale, Thranduil had sent measurements to the Palace, and commissioned new outfits including boots and shoes, for all the children, including Tauriel.

Bard protested at the extravagance, but acquiesced when Hilda pointed out that the children had outgrown most of their clothes, anyway, and didn’t Tauriel deserve to have some nicer things?  Besides, _Ada_ was footing the bill, and he would not allow the treasury of Dale to be burdened thus, when it had more important things to be used for.

Two trunks also arrived, one with Bard’s good clothes from their dressing room, and one which contained the Elvenking’s best finery including one of his more elaborate diadems to wear for diplomatic visits.

Unfortunately, that’s when they hit a snag…

~o0o~  

 

> _“Faica umbar!”_ Thranduil cursed when he opened the trunk, and saw a particular box.
> 
> “What’s wrong, love?” Bard came over to see. “What is it?”
> 
> “Why does Galion send for this?” he pointed to the tall, round object, covered in silver brocade. “He _always_ wants me to wear it, and I despise it!”
> 
> “Wear what?” Bard picked it up and made to open it, but Thranduil slammed the lid down. 
> 
> “Not out here!” he hissed.
> 
> Bard grabbed his hand, and carried the box to their room, and put it on the bed.  “Well?”
> 
> “I am not opening that thing.” The Elvenking crossed his arms.  “You do it.”
> 
> Bard sat on the bed and unwound the thin cord that wrapped around the leather buttons, and raised the lid.
> 
> “That’s certainly... _something,_ isn't it?"
> 
> “Yes, it is.”
> 
> Bard picked it up and turned it back and forth.  The crown looked like a series of branches and twigs done in silver.  Or maybe it looked like silver antlers; he couldn’t be sure.
> 
> “It looks… well-made?” Bard tried a hopeful tone.
> 
> Thranduil narrowed his eyes.
> 
> “Which part goes in the front?”
> 
> “That,” the Elf pointed to the widow’s peak, “rests on my forehead so low, I have to stop myself from crossing my eyes."
> 
> “Let me see it on you,” Bard stood up with it.
> 
> “Absolutely not.” The Elvenking stepped back.  “You will not place that ugly monstrosity on my head!”
> 
> “Oh, come on; it can’t be _that_ bad.”
> 
>  “ _You_ wear it, then!”
> 
> Bard sighed.  “Come on.  Just this once, for me?  Please?”
> 
> “Bard –“
> 
> _“Athog? Annin?”_ The Bowman smirked.  “You _know_ you love it when I speak Sindarin, _Aran vuin nîn._ ”
> 
> Thranduil sighed. “You will not laugh at me?”
> 
> “Cross my heart.” Bard made an “X” motion over his chest.
> 
> “I do not know what that means.”
> 
> “It means I promise not to laugh at you.”
> 
> The Elf rolled his eyes, smoothed his hair, put it on, and looked at Bard expectantly.
> 
> “It’s well… um…”  Bard put his knuckles to his mouth, and resisted the urge to fall on the floor and roll about.  “It’s… an _unusual_ look for you."  
> 
> “‘ _Unusual?’”_ Thranduil covered his face. “I look like a idiot!”
> 
> The Bowman put his arms around his waist, making sure to look somewhere on his shoulder, so he didn’t see his head.  “You’ll always be beautiful to me.”
> 
> “Can I take it off, now?”
> 
> “You can, thank you for doing it, love.”
> 
> Thranduil whipped it off his head so hard, a few strands of hair came with it, and threw it across the room.
> 
> “Hey, don’t do that; it’s a valuable piece of jewelry!”
> 
> “Since it bears no jewels, and makes me look stupid, I highly disagree.”  Thranduil stalked out of the bedroom.
> 
> As soon as the door was shut, Bard couldn’t hold it in anymore.  He sputtered, then snickered, and within seconds, he sat down on the bed in hysterics, laughing into his pillow until his stomach hurt.  Each time he thought he was finally done, the giggle-fits began again, and he would double up into a ball until he could hardly breathe. 
> 
> Finally, the King of Dale sat up and went to wash his face, still chuckling occasionally.
> 
> When he was sure he’d gotten himself under control, he smoothed down his tunic and opened the door.
> 
> Thranduil stood there looking furious.  And very hurt.
> 
> “How could you, Bard?  After you made the Sacred Vow!”
> 
> “After the what?”
> 
> “You said the words!  You did this!” Thranduil made an angry slashing motion over his chest. “I _trusted you!”_
> 
> Bard looked over the Elvenking’s shoulder, at the heads peeking out of the doors in the corridor.
> 
> “Get in here; you’re making a scene.” He yanked the Elf inside and shut the door, then put his hands on his hips. “What happened to the silencing spell?”
> 
> “I removed it.”
> 
> “When?”
> 
> “A few minutes ago.”
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “Because I _knew you would laugh!_   I knew it!  Even after you –“ again, Thranduil slashed across his chest. 
> 
> Bard sat him on the bed, and tried to take Thranduil into his arms, but the Elf was stiff and standoffish. “Do not try to make up to me!” he said angrily. “You vowed with the Crossing of the Heart, then you laughed at me!”
> 
> “Please don’t be mad; I couldn’t help it.  But, before we talk about this, put the spell back up.  Now.”
> 
> Thranduil raised his hand, and spoke the words to the _luith-dínen,_ with a frown.  “Go on.”
> 
> “First of all, ‘Cross your Heart’ is not a spell, a curse, nor any type of magic.  It’s simply something we say.  Children say it.”
> 
> “Children?”
> 
> “Aye. ‘Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.’”
> 
> _**“** What **?”**_ The Elvenking leaped to his feet and towered over him with a horrified look.  “What is this ‘ _hoping to die?’”_ Thranduil was utterly shocked, and looked at Bard like he’d never seen him clearly before.  “Needles?  In _eyeballs_?  That is deplorable, Bard!”
> 
> “Really, love; it’s not a big deal—”
> 
> _“It is to me!_   Our Tilda says such things, does she not?”
> 
> “Well, yes, but –“
> 
> “It is barbaric!  They will stop this practice immediately!  I cannot abide such a thing to come out of her mouth!”
> 
> “All right, all right…” Bard said in a soothing tone.  “I won’t say it anymore, and I’ll make sure the kids don’t either.”
> 
> The Elf sniffed, and crossed his arms expectantly. “ _And?”_
> 
> _“And_ I’m sorry you’re mad about me laughing, but I really tried to wait till you couldn’t hear me, so as not to hurt your feelings.”
> 
> “But you _did_ , and it _did!”_
> 
> “Well...    _you_ removed the silent-spell in the first place!” Bard pointed out. “You cheated!”
> 
> _“_ And _you_ made me think you had performed a Truth Spell, which turned out to be a _sadistic_ _children’s poem!”_ the Elvenking roared. _“A cruel idiom you allow our own children to say, as if it was nothing!”_
> 
> Thranduil glared at him for a few seconds, then growled, as left the room in a huff, leaving Bard to wonder what just happened.  He closed his mouth, shook his head, and got up to go back to work.   
> 
> Bard ran into Percy in the hall. “What’s up with the Elf?” he asked, as Thranduil stalked into his office and shut the door.
> 
> “Cultural misunderstandings, and ugly headgear.”
> 
> The Steward opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it.  Percy raised his hands up, then walked away.
> 
> Bard rolled his eyes and sighed, then sent a message to Feren.
> 
>  
> 
> Dinner that evening was quiet and tense, despite both Kings’ effort to appear cheerful and relaxed. 
> 
> It didn’t work.  Tilda accused Da of smiling “too hard,” and said her _Ada_ was “fakey-nice.”
> 
> The family gathering afterward was downright awkward, but the rest of them were too excited about their trip to notice that their fathers looked everywhere but each other.  When Tauriel got up to take the dogs for their walk, Thranduil said he would do it, and left before anyone could comment further.
> 
> Bard was sick of it.  This was a ridiculous argument about nothing!  Absolutely nothing!
> 
> Or was it?
> 
> Bard considered this thought, as he sent the children off to their baths, tucked them in, kissed them goodnight and went into his bedroom to wait for his husband.
> 
>  
> 
> Sometime later, the door opened, and the Elf came in, looking at the floor. 
> 
> “Took you long enough.”
> 
> Thranduil raised his gaze and froze, as his eyes widened. 
> 
> Bard was lying on his side on top of the covers, with his head propped up on his elbow. 
> 
> Naked.  Except for one thing.
> 
> “You look…” the Elf slowly walked over to him, “even more ridiculous than I do in that thing.”
> 
> “Oh, I don’t know; I think it makes me look exotic.”
> 
> “’Exotic’ is not the word I would use, _Meleth nîn_.”
> 
>  “I could take it off your hands.”
> 
> “You may take it off my hands, on one condition.”
> 
> “What’s that?”
> 
> “You take it off your head, first.”
> 
> “You do it,” Bard looked down at his naked body.  “I don’t have anything else for you to take off.”
> 
> Thranduil crawled on the bed, took the crown off, and threw it over his shoulder, sending it clattering in the corner.
> 
> “So,” Bard traced the lines of Thranduil’s throat and chest with his finger, “how about putting that _gwîb_ of yours to good use, and _puith_ your King?”
> 
> Thranduil smiled, as his lips hovered over Bard’s. “Your pronunciation is still terrible.”
> 
> “Just shut up and fuck me, Elf.”
> 
>  
> 
> Later, Thranduil was laying across their bed, with his head hanging over the side, as Bard rested his cheek against his stomach, tracing little circles on his chest.
> 
> “That was fabulous.” Bard breathed.
> 
> “It is always wonderful, but the - what do you call it? ‘Make-up sex?’ That is…”
> 
> “Fabulouser.”
> 
> “That is not a word, Bard.”
> 
> “It is now.  Told you we should name it.”
> 
> “We did. ‘The Elf Thing.’”
> 
> “That’s regular sex, but ‘make-up sex’ has to have its own name. ‘Fabulouser…’”
> 
> Thranduil’s eyes were still closed as he snickered.  “Name it if you must, but come up with something better, _Meleth_.”  His long, white-gold hair puddled on the floor beneath him, as stroked his husband’s head.
> 
> “You know, when the Castle is finished, I want a bed as big as the one in the Palace.”
> 
> “I will make sure of it.”
> 
> “I was also thinking…” the Bowman began.
> 
> “Always troublesome.”
> 
> “Be serious.”  Bard grabbed his hand, and helped Thranduil up, so he could settle against his side, and wrap his arms around him.  “I think,” he kissed the blonde head, “I know what was really upsetting you.”
> 
> “What is that?”
> 
> “This trip has gotten you rattled. You’re nervous, love.”
> 
> “Are you not nervous as well?”
> 
> “Of course, I am,” He snickered. “I’m terrified somebody’s going to find out I’m an imposter; just a barge man with no clue what I’m doing.  Even so, it’s easier for me – I don’t have a bad history with the Dwarves, and I know how much you want this to go well.  But there’s something else, too.”
> 
> “And what would that be?”
> 
> “Maybe you feel you have to prove you’re not the monster they thought you were.  Maybe, on a base level, it hurts to think that they thought you a monster in the first place.”  Bard lifted his head and look at Thranduil’s face. “It’s not a bad thing to want to be understood, love.  You genuinely like Dáin, and want all these new people to like you, too.”
> 
> Bard sat quietly, waiting for his husband to speak.
> 
> After a few moments, Thranduil sighed.  “Thorin told me I lacked all honor, and in that moment, he was right.  Dáin said on that battlefield, that I wished nothing but ill will upon his people, and it was true...  And when Tauriel stood in front of me, with her arrow in my face, she said, ‘There is no love in you.’  She was also correct, for I was willing to let her friends be slaughtered, Bard.  Then Legolas looked at me with such anger and disgust...  I really was a monster.
> 
> ”What would have happened, had she not stood up to me?” He swallowed.  “I can hardly stand to think of what I had allowed myself to become, and I may be facing an entire City of Dwarves who may still think of me that way.”
> 
> ”You know that’s not true, love.  You gave them food, and supplies when the Dragon came.  I’ll bet plenty of them remember that.”
> 
> “I do not know why I care so much, now.  I did not used to.”
> 
> Bard turned on his side to face him. “You didn’t care before, because you were numb inside, Thranduil. You _feel_ things now, and that can be hard, sometimes.”
> 
> The Elf was embarrassed to agree with him.  “I know it does not make sense…”
> 
> “Feelings often don’t, but that’s all right.”
> 
> “Still,” Thranduil sighed. “I will not gain understanding and respect with silly-looking antlers on my head.”
> 
> “Have you _seen_ the Crown of Erebor?   _That_ _thing_ looks like arse, and no one's going to convince me Dáin likes it."  Bard hugged him tighter. “Feren and I sent for some other ones, and they'll be here in the morning.”
> 
> “Which ones?”
> 
> “Your sapphire and diamond one, and the silver and onyx diadem for the memorial service in the tombs.”  He grinned.  “I also sent for your emerald necklace.”
> 
> ”You did?” Thranduil smiled.  “Why?”
> 
> ”Because of the way you smiled, just now.  Because when you wear it, you can think of how I smashed your chair in the dressing room, teasing each other to madness in front of that mirror.” Bard tugged Thranduil’s hair.  “So if you feel nervous at all, look at me, touch your emeralds three times, and that will be my signal.”
> 
> ”Signal for what?”
> 
> ”For me to fall to my knees, pull down your drawers, and give you a blow job, right in front of the Valar and everybody.   _That_  should convince the dwarves you’ve got plenty of love in you.”
> 
> Thranduil smacked him with pillow, then kissed him. “Thank you, _Meleth_ _nîn.”_  He sighed with relief.  “I am sorry I was irritable.”
> 
> “I’m sorry I laughed.  I’d _never_ want to hurt your feelings, love, you have to know that.  And I didn’t mean to upset you with that little rhyme about crossing my heart.  I honestly never thought about it before this.”
> 
> “I cannot make jokes about death, Bard.” Thranduil picked at the sheets.  “I…  I understand that Humans see death as a natural part of life, and such whimsy might be your way of making peace with it, but it is not natural for Elves.  I just... cannot think about dying and make light of it."
> 
> “You’re right,” Bard kissed his temple.  “I’m sorry.”
> 
> “I know you are, and I should have explained at the time.” Thranduil settled himself on Bard’s shoulder.  “If I am to be perfectly honest, I do not blame you for laughing.  I confess I did the same, when my father had to wear it.”
> 
> The Bowman snickered.  “Where did it come from?” 
> 
> “It was made by one of Galion’s relatives, and he gave it to my father, as a gift.  Oropher hated it too, but never wanted to hurt his feelings.”
> 
> “Well, I could make it up to you, by getting rid of it.”
> 
> “Really?” He smiled at kissed Bard.  “What are you going to do?”
> 
> “I’m not going to tell you; this will give you plausible deniability.” Bard grinned. “Do you trust me?”
> 
> “Implicitly.” Thranduil looked up at his husband.  “You are a wicked Bowman, and I love you very much.”
> 
> “Anything for my Elf.  Now go to sleep.”
> 
> “Mmmm…”  Thranduil settled down with a smile.
> 
> “By the way, you were right.”
> 
> “About what, _Meleth nîn_?”
> 
> “When that thing was on my head, all I wanted to do was cross my eyes.”  

~o0o~

The better circlets arrived the next morning, and were hidden in bottom of Bard’s trunk, the packing and preparations were finally finished.   The wagons were loaded, and ready, and the family was scheduled to be off early in the morning.  

 

***************

 

**Hope Field (formerly the Field of Desolation), 27 th of July, 2942 T.A.**

“Look, _Meleth nîn_!” Thranduil raised a gloved hand, and pointed.

Hope Field was looking wonderful, with all its various crops growing right on schedule, and the many small fluffy dots in the distance meant the sheep were doing well. 

“That’s a sight and no mistake.”  Bard said, with wonder.  “I’ve only been down here once since the summer began, and that was to change the name.  It’s so different from… that day, isn’t it?  So green and alive... a fine tribute to those who lost their life defending it. 

“It is beautiful.” The Elvenking agreed. They rode for a while, as Thranduil talked about the various crops, and what they needed to do yet, for the harvest to be successful. 

“I’ve so much to learn.” Bard shook his head.  “I’ll never get caught up with all the stuff you know.”

“No, but this is why I am here in Dale, to help you with things you have not had a chance to learn.  I have seen over three thousand years’ worth of plowing, planting and harvests, both in plenty and in want.”

“You know everything, _Ada_!”  Tilda smiled up at him from her dapple-grey mare.  The Kings were side-by-side on their stallions, and Tilda was proudly between them, astride Blossom. Charlotte was in a sling on her front (a miniature version of Rhian’s that she helped her make one afternoon) and she was thrilled to be riding, even if it only would be part of the way.

“Oh, that is not true at all, _hênig_ ,” he smiled down at her.  “Your Da is wise in ways I never was.”  Thranduil looked at her.  “Do you feel tired, _Tithen Pen_?” 

“No.”

“How do your hands, feel?” 

“My fingers are a little tingly.”

“Drop the reigns, and let your hands rest on your legs.  Blossom will walk nicely between _Fînlossen_ and _Naurmôr,_ so you do not have to worry.”

“She will?”

“Of course.”  Thranduil leaned down and said to the small horse, _“Ámet hilya, Blossom.  Áva lavlenta melda Aranel Tilda.”_

“What did you say?” she asked.

“I simply told your horse to follow us, and not to let you fall.”

“Oh.  Thanks, _Ada_.”

“You are welcome, _hênig_ , but if I see you get tired, you will ride with me, is that understood?”

“But-–“

“Do as _Ada_ says, love.” Bard told her.  “You don’t want to wear yourself out before you even get there.”

She sighed.  “Yes, Da.”

 

Tilda did eventually ride in front of _Ada_ , and he let her lean against him, so she could relax, and she had fun watching the others race around.

Thranduil enjoyed watching Bard have fun and be at ease – he’d been frantic with his duties before this, and mostly saw his family at meal times, or the late evenings.  This was the first time he’d ever been riding with their children, and he was going to make the most of it.

 _Fînlossen_  joined in the fun, too – shaking his long mane, flicking his tail and trotting in circles around the children.  The fields were clear for miles, so Tauriel and guards allowed the family to race each other and double back, and Tilda was assigned the judge to declare the winner.

Daeron, as usual, rode by Bard’s side on Aegis, and despite his upset, kept his mind on his job like a consummate professional. 

~o0o~ 

 

> The Lieutenant had come to see him earlier this week, informing him that he would definitely be taking the assignment in Lothlórien, which wasn’t a surprise, but had requested leave from Dale as soon as it could be arranged.
> 
> “I am afraid I cannot spare you, Daeron; we need you for the trip to Erebor, and to help escort the Royal Family to the Wedding three weeks later.  Are you all right?  Has something happened?”
> 
> The Elf looked stricken.  “I…”
> 
> “Has something happened?” He asked again.
> 
> “Rhian was in the Market when the man was arrested this morning.  She was with me.”
> 
> “I thought you were trying to limit contact with her.” Thranduil raised his eyebrow.
> 
> “I am, My Lord.  She saw me shopping and joined me.  I could not refuse her company and make her think I was angry with her.  She saw the violence, and…”
> 
> _“Gorgor…”_ Thranduil blew out a breath. “Is she all right?”
> 
> “I stayed with her and Darryn at her house until Hannah came, and I believe she will be fine, but…” Daeron shook his head.  “I am sorry, My Lord.  I came here on impulse, and it was irresponsible of me...”
> 
> “This is unlike you, _Mellon_ _nîn_.”
> 
>  “Forgive me, My Lord; I am not myself.” The Lieutenant hung his head.   
> 
> “Daeron,” Thranduil crossed his legs.  “I need you to accompany us to the Palace for the Wedding, but perhaps I can arrange for you to stay, at the end of August, rather than return for those two weeks.     Commander Feren was planning to bring the next rotation of troops back, anyway, as well as another Healer.  It seems, you will be a tough act follow, Lieutenant.” He smiled. “Take some time, be with your family until you leave.”
> 
> “I would appreciate it.  May I ask who else will go to the Golden Wood?”
> 
> “I do not know just yet, but you will be the ranking Officer for the year; I know that much.  Feren has presented me with a list, so it will be a matter of asking them.  Most of the Guardians are still in the Forest, so he will meet with them next month. You will work closely with them the week before the Wardens arrive, then the week after.”
> 
> “No other Guardians from Dale?”
> 
> “There was one, but he respectfully declined, as he recently became betrothed to an archer, who is also stationed here.  They plan to marry this winter.”
> 
> “You are speaking of Nuín?”  Daeron grinned.  “He finally asked Nualë ?  It is about time!  I must go and offer my congratulations.”
> 
> “There will be many such happy events in the decades to come, during this time of peace."
> 
> The Guard nodded.  “I am glad of it, truly.”
> 
> “Daeron,” Thranduil leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk, “should you return and find things to be impossible to bear here, I will be happy to reassign you to the Woodland Realm permanently.  There will be more Elven children in the Realm, so there will be plenty of challenging, useful work for you.”
> 
> “You are very kind, My Lord.  I love it here in Dale, but should Rhian choose another, I do not wish to return.”
> 
> “Do not lose hope, _Mellon.”_
> 
> The Guard looked at his King and friend with dull eyes. “I do not dare hang on to a shred of it.  I cannot allow myself to dream, only to have it snatched away again.”
> 
> “Then look only to the immediate future, and get through these trips.”  Thranduil got up and clasped his wrist.  “We will deal with whatever comes, when it comes.”

~o0o~

Thranduil was roused from his musings by his small daughter.

 “ _Ada_?”

“Yes?” he smiled down at her.  The summer sun had lightened her hair, and there were adorable little freckles across her nose and cheeks.

“I won’t ever be allowed to run and play like everybody else, will I?”

“We are hopeful, _hênig_.  Daeron is keeping a close eye on you and he says you are coming along well.  It has only been six months since you were so sick, _Tithen Pen_.  That is not a long time.”

“It is to me!” 

“I know, and I am sorry about that.  But you do not remember much about that time, and I,” he sighed, “remember every single second of it.  I was so frightened you would leave us, and I tell the Valar every day how grateful I am have you, so I can ride with you like this.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Oh, do not be sorry,” he kissed the top of her head.  “Just breathe the fresh summer air, and be thankful you can.  Your Da taught me many things, but the biggest is to find something to be grateful for in each day.  You can do that, too.”

“Even though I can’t do things, and still forget, sometimes?”

“Even then.  Try it, _Tithen Pen,_ and see if it does not make you feel a little better.”

“So…  I’m grateful I’m going to see Uncle Dáin and meet his wife.”

“Yes.  Can you think of something else?”

“I can think of three.  I have you, and I have Da and I have Blossom.  And Esta.  And Charlotte and Daisy, too.”

“You have outdone yourself.  Tomorrow, you can tell me more things.  For now, just lean back and get a little rest, my little love.”

As she snuggled into his chest, he hugged her to him, kissed her hair again, and once again gave thanks for all the jewels Bard brought into his life.

 

The rest of the ride was quiet for them, and the others soon settled down, too.  At last, they crossed the bridge across the river, before the great doors of Erebor, where attendants were ready to welcome them, and take their horses and luggage. 

“Tauriel will be staying in her quarters, of course, and you will be in the same suite as before, Lord Bard,” the Dwarrowdam showed them their quarters.  Your luggage will be along in a few minutes, and there are clean towels and things in the bathing room.  The ceremony and feast will begin in three hours.”

“Thank you.” Bard nodded her head.  “What is your name?”

“My name is Thala, My Lord.  I will be your attendant during your stay.”

“I am sure we will be well looked after, Thala,” Thranduil smiled at her.  “You honor us with your attention to detail. I thank you.”

The Dam blushed and giggled shyly, before she curtsied and excused herself.

“She must be young; I don’t see a beard.” Bard observed.  “Balin said they don’t start them until they are about thirty.  He jabbed Thranduil in the side, and whispered. “I think she _likes_ you.”

 “It is such a burden to bear, _Meleth_.”  Thranduil rolled his eyes, and sighed heavily. “Do not hate me because I am beautiful.”  

“Oh, quit being such a smart-arse.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of their trunks, and set to unpacking and getting their clothes hung up, and aired out.  Normally, Thranduil would have Galion do this, but Hilda insisted they set the example for the children, and do things for themselves.

Then they all washed after their ride, and Tilda settled into bed for a nap, with Tauriel, who was reading her a story.

As Bard bent over their trunk to fish out his good black leggings and his cream-colored tunic with the gold braiding.  Thranduil spied the box covered with silver silk. 

“Bard!” he hissed.  “You said you’d get rid of it!”

“What?”  The Bowman stood up straight.  “You know Galion will make sure you brought it.  Besides,” he shrugged, “it’s a useful box to put things in."

“What do you mean?”

Bard opened it, showed him several pairs of rolled-up socks.  “You were saying?”

“Galion will notice the change in its weight.”

“Will he?” Bard lifted the socks, and showed him the large stone underneath.

“But where is –“ Thranduil found fingers on his lips.

“Ah ah ah..  not another word.  ‘Plausible deniability,’ remember?”

The Elvenking stepped back and raised his eyebrows, but said no more.

 

When they were all dressed in their finery, their escorts arrived, and they made their way through the passages and many bridges to the King’s Hall, where everyone was getting ready to take their seats.  In the front, King Dáin, some members of the Original Company and their families sat in chairs off to the left, facing the center.  Bard, Thranduil and their group took their places to the right.

Once everyone quieted down, a large set of doors swung open, with a loud bang. Dwalin, Commander of the Dwarven Army marched forth with his Captains carrying their swords, and began an elaborate dance, punctuated by several guttural shouts, accompanied by swoops of their ceremonial swords.  Their war cries were a bit frightening, so Thranduil stole a quick glance over to check on Tilda, but she was sitting on Tauriel’s lap, and the Elf was whispering in her ear and explaining everything, so she looked more interested than intimidated.

This display of power finished with a loud cry and all was silent, as an older Dwarrowdam came forward, dressed in all her finery.  She clearly was a priestess among the Dwarves, adorned with elaborate jewelry around her neck, wrists and ears, and her hair arranged in complicated braids, accented with beads, and sparkling jewels.  She opened her mouth, and sang a song in Khuzdul, which was quite lovely.

Then Thranduil and Bard rose from their seats, came before the Dwarf King and Queen.  He sang the last verse of The Song of Varda in Sindarin.  Bard then sang the the anthem of Dale, which Daeron and Thranduil had recently taught him.  (After some debate, Bard decided to keep tradition and keep Girion’s. Publicly, of course, the reason was about tradition and embracing their history, and all that, but mostly, no one had time to spare to come up with a new one, and it was a nice tune.)

 

All was silent, as four Dwarrowdams quietly stepped forward and laid out a line of cushions between them.

Feren, Bard, Thranduil and Percy stood up and walked forward, in front of the cushions, and waited.

Then King Dáin and Queen Dilna come forward, flanked by Dwalin to his left, and Balin to his right.  Dwalin stepped up, held two swords, glittering with jewels, high in the air and spoke several words in Khuzdul, then spoke them in Westron:

“May Mahal protect you, your loved ones and your people.”  He set them down on the cushion, bowed and stepped back.

Feren walked forward, bowed low in Dwarven fashion, then picked up the swords, never breaking eye contact with Dwalin. 

Balin stepped forward, held up the two scrolls, and said, “May Mahal bring you wisdom, now and for future generations.”  Then set them down on the cushion in front of them.

Percy and Galion picked them up, holding the gaze of Lord Balin, who gave them a nod and a smile.

Finally, the King and Queen of the Dwarves, who were each holding colorful cloths, and set them down.  The Kings of Greenwood and Dale bent low to pick them up, employing the same respectful posture, and and direct eye contact.

The bundles were then handed to their Aides who unfurled them, to display the flags that had been made for them, each representing their country, as well as bearing the symbol of the Northern Kingdoms.

The Kings bowed and expressed their thanks then Tauriel presented the gifts from the Woodland Realm, and Bain brought them the Gifts from Dale.

After a few spoken words of giving and receiving welcome in all three languages, the Royals, their families, and high-ranking officials lined up, and each took their turn touching the foreheads of Dwarven Royal Family.

 _“Umral Thranduil-uzbad,”_ Dáin touched his forehead.

“ _Mellon nîn, Aran Dáin,”_ he replied.

When Queen Dilna did the same, he smiled and said, _“Mellon nîn, Aranel Dilna,”_ and so it went, down the line.  He quickly looked to his right, to check on Tauriel, who was holding Tilda’s hand helping her along.

Tilda, of course, could not be expected to remember everyone’s names, so the Dwarves agreed ahead of time to allow her to simply say, “Hello, friend” which she did very politely, but when she met the small Dam who obviously the one Balin was speaking of, she got enthusiastic.

“Hello, my new friend, Princess Alda!” She said, loud and clear, which made everyone in the Hall of Kings smile.  The little Dam seemed to be just as excited to meet her, and smiled as she reached out her hand to pet Esta, who was wagging her tail at Tilda’s side.

 _Bless you, my little love,_ Thranduil thought, for all this had occurred just as Tauriel approached Princess Dís, and when they met at last, both were smiling with amusement.  Tilda had worked her magic to break the ice between Dís and his eldest daughter and their meeting went smoothly.

After the Ceremony, the midday meal was served, and the Royals all sat down to get to know each other a bit more. 

Now that things weren’t so choreographed, it was a bit awkward between the children at first, but by the end of the meal, Bain and Rhys were enthusiastically chatting with the Dáin’s grandson, and obviously comparing archery styles, from the way they were gesticulating.  Sigrid was seated between Dain’s daughter, Mornia, and his granddaughter Dura, and seemed to enjoy their company.  Sigrid had obviously asked the women to explain the significance of the beads and jewels, as they were pointing to their hair and beards, and she was listening with great interest. 

And there was little Tilda and Alda.  If their giggles were any indication, they were getting along swimmingly, despite the language barrier and heavy accents.

“It’s like magic, isn’t it, Lord Thranduil?” Queen Dilna smiled up at him. “Bairns of every race are born free from hate, fear and suspicion.  ‘Tis not a terrible thing to demand that trust be earned, but too many of my people become too rigid, and lose trust altogether.”

“The history of Elves tells us we are no different, and too many have held on to ancient grudges to their own detriment.” The Elvenking raised his goblet and toasted her. “Let us hope we can set the better example for our children.  You are blessed with a wonderful family, My Lady.”

“Aye, they’re a big, noisy, bothersome bunch, but I love every one of them, especially the grandchildren.”

“A blessing I eagerly anticipate for Lord Bard and myself, one day.  I do hope you can spend some time with Lady Hilda, during our stay.  Though not Royal by blood, she is our beloved matriarch, nonetheless.  I think you would like her.”

Dilna looked over at the woman, who was speaking with Dori in an friendly, animated manner. “I believe I would.  She seems a good leader.”

“She is.  Bard and I run our respective countries-–“

“But she rules the roost at home, doesn’t she?” The Queen chuckled.

The Elvenking laughed.  “She does indeed, and we love her for it. She deserves as much credit for how well the children turned out, as Bard. My Aide, Galion adores her.”

“I try to do the same for Dáin.  I know how hard it is to be a ruler, and the weight has grown tenfold since Thorin was killed.  He needs a place where he can relax and let down, when the day is done, so when he steps in our rooms, I'm the one in charge, and he can leave things to me."

“I completely understand.  Hilda and Galion make sure we do the same.”

“Oh, you have to!  If you lose touch with with your family, you lose touch with your people, I say.”

“Wise words, My Lady.”Thranduil couldn’t stop himself from looking over at his Tauriel, who was having a lively conversation with Dwalin, Feren and Lady Dís.

“Your daughter and Dís are getting along.” Dilna said, “I think they’ll be good for each other.”

 Relieved, he thanked the Queen.  "May I offer my congratulations on your newest granddaughter.  I see the new mother is absent."

“Thank you.  She’s not feeling so well, and her wee one keeps her up.”

“One of my Guardians is also a Healer, and specializes in midwifery.  He served in Dale while Thror was King, and delivered several Dwarven children while there.  Daeron could examine her, if you like.”

“Really?” The Queen’s interest was peaked. “I’d appreciate that.”  She looked over at Bard, who was laughing with Dwalin and Percy.  “The King of Dale looks like a good man.  Dáin and Thorin’s Company think the world of him.”

“As do I. We would be sitting here like this, if anyone else had killed the Dragon.” He looked into Dilna’s blue eyes. “He is to me, what you are to Dáin, if the way he speaks of you is any indication.  Your husband kept this territory together for all of us, and Bard and I are grateful.”

“And I think the world of him.  We both suffered a long separation, last winter, didn’t we?” She touched the beads in her graying hair, that once had been dark.  “‘Never again,’ I told him.  Where he goes, I go.”

”A good King needs a strong devoted spouse.”

”Looks like we’re both blessed, then.” 

They spoke of several other topics, until their host stood to give a short speech, thanking them for coming, and announcing the processional to the tombs to pay tribute to their fallen.

The shuffling of chairs was heard as the adults made ready.  The children would stay, and Sigrid was in charge of theirs, so they were to be escorted back to their suite.

Dáin, Dilna, Dís led the way, and Thranduil put Tauriel between himself and Bard, and they walked down, down into the heart of the Lonely Mountain.  They were followed by the Original Company, Percy, Galion, Feren, Alun, and after that, the remaining Dwarves and Dams, who all began to sing.   As with the funeral after the Battle, Thranduil marveled at the acoustics in this chamber, and the unique style of Aulë’s children.  It was singing, but wordless, and the sound seemed to come from their throats that actually harmonized with themselves.

It was stunning, a sound he would never forget.

The harmony increased, as Dáin and Dilna stepped onto the central platform, and took a large spray of flowers and greenery, that grew on the Lonely Mountain, and after saying a blessing in Khuzdul, sent it over the side, to give it to their fallen comrades.

Lady Dís, supported by Dwalin, began to join them, but stopped and turned back.  Everyone held their breath, then let it out, as she went to Tauriel, and held out her heavily-jeweled hand.

“Come, lass. We'll do this together.”

The Elvenking was touched beyond words as he watched the two of them send their offerings down to them.  Dís had brought some flora from the Blue Mountains, where her sons grew up, and Tauriel carried a bouquet of flowers, including rosemary for remembrance, and forget-me-nots.  She even included a sprig of _Athelas_ , to commemorate the night in Bard’s home, when Kili spoke of his love in a fevered dream.

They both cried, as they let their flowers go, and supported each other as they returned to their places, with Dwalin’s help.

Thranduil took his arrangement of Woodland Realm flowers from Galion, and after a short prayer, Thranduil gave his tribute to the Dwarves who now resided in the Halls of their Fathers.

Still accompanied by the indescribable sound of the Dwarven song, the King of Dale took his spray from Percy.  The Elvenking couldn’t help but notice this arrangement looked different, as if some other things had been hastily added at the last minute. Bard bowed his head, murmured a prayer, then let it go. 

Only Thranduil’s keen Elven hearing could pick up the muffled _clank,_ as the arrangement bounced off the stone edge, before disappearing in the blackness below.  He gave Bard a surreptitious look from of the corner of his eye, and and caught the almost imperceptible wink from his husband. 

Bard had indeed made good on his promise to ‘misplace’ that horrendous crown, where Galion could _never_ find it again.

Still respectful of the seriousness and solemnity of the occasion, Thranduil brought his attention back to the ceremony, but not before making a note to thank his husband later. 

Thoroughly.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _luith-dínen_ – “Spell of Silence”

 _Gwîb_ – penis (I kid you not - Tolkien had a name for it)

 _Puith_ \- Fuck

 _Ámet hilya, Blossom.  Áva lavlenta hérincë_ melda _Tilda Aranel_ – (Quenya) Follow us, Blossom.  Do not allow the beloved Princess Tilda to fall

 

NOTES:

\--The type of singing that only Dwarves can do, is very similar to “throat singing,” as practiced in the Mongolian Culture.  It’s fascinating – check this out: <https://youtu.be/qx8hrhBZJ98>

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip to Erebor was packed full of important meetings, a great deal of fun... 
> 
> ...and many profound experiences.
> 
> Bofur has turned his ballad of Kili and Tauriel into an elaborate, unforgettable production, which touches the heart of everyone present in the Hall of Kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Beside you,” the song Bofur sings at the end of the banquet in Erebor, is to the tune of “Lift the Wings,” written by Bill Whalen, from ‘Riverdance.’  It seemed appropriate to substitute “Amrâlimê” (Khuzdul for “My Love”) for “a Stóirín a Grá,” which means the same thing in Gaelic.
> 
> It's a beautiful song, and you should really check it out:  https://youtu.be/x3tUkhLyM70

 

“Sometimes people fall in love with those who do not return the same strength of feelings. It is as it is,” he said with a quiet intensity. “What I give, I give freely. You owe me nothing, not love, not friendship, not even obligation.”   
― [ **Sherry Thomas**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/266470.Sherry_Thomas), [ **Tempting the Bride**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/18441729)

  

 

**Erebor, 28 th of July, 2942 T.A.**

Tauriel woke up in her apartments in the Mountain, and saw the light streaming in from the window onto her white blanket, reflecting the angular patterns of the lead came-work.  She had been surprised at the number of windows she found in the Mountain, when she began to visit – for some reason she had assumed there were very few – but these windows reflected the excellent craftsmanship of their race: many of the Dwarven colored-glass windows were turned into an art form, and they told stories like the tapestries hanging in the Hall of Kings.

How her heart pounded yesterday when she finally met the Lady of the Blue Mountains, face-to-face!  Tilda was holding her hand – she knew _Ada_ had placed her little sister beside her on purpose, to ease her anxiety.

Dís looked so much like Kili, her stomach did a somersault.  Bless Tilda for speaking up with Alda such wonderful enthusiasm, and instantly lightening the mood.

 _“Ai-menu duzhuk, Tauriel-uzbadiya,”_ Dís smiled, and touched her forehead and nose.

 _“Suilad, brennil vuil Dís,”_ Tauriel whispered shyly. Suddenly overcome, she looked down, but the Dam lifted her chin, and met her eyes with a kindly gaze, and spoke in Westron.

“Welcome, Princess Tauriel.  I am happy to meet you.” Dís gave her a small nod, and suddenly a weight was lifted.  They eyed each other with tears in their eyes, each feeling the absence of their loved one keenly.

The memorial service in the Tombs was made easier to bear when Lady Dís took her hand and asked that they pay tribute together. 

Tauriel held out the bouquet she’d put together herself, and said, in a broken voice, “ _Govano i nothrim în ah i mellyn în mi Mannos._   _Gi melin, urieb, Kili.”_

Dís whispered words in Khuzdul, and tried to offer her tribute, but her grief was such that Dwalin took it and did it for her.  His strong arm remained around her shoulders, and he guided her gently back to her place, but she held Tauriel’s hand throughout, and wouldn’t let go.

 

Once the service was over, and they made their way up the massive, long staircase.  Tauriel remained beside Kili’s mother, with _Ada’s_ subtle nod of approval.

“I would like to meet with you in my chambers, if you would, lass.  In one hour?”

Tauriel bowed.  “I would be honored to accept your invitation.”

It was a good meeting.  She and Dís were a bit awkward at first, but soon settled in with each other. 

“Your family is certainly a unique one, Tauriel.”  Dís told her as she handed her a glass of wine.  “A veritable mish-mosh of races and personalities.”

“It is.  Just a year ago, I would never have imagined it, but now I cannot be without them…”  She looked at the Dam in consternation.  “I am sorry, My Lady; I did not mean to –“

“No, child.  No.  Never be sorry for the blessings the Valar has given you.  I know you have experienced great loss, too and not just my Kili.”

 “If there is one thing I have learned since living in Dale, is that none of us has to bear our burdens alone.   I see the same in Dwalin, My Lady. He has been especially kind to me, though many find that surprising.”

“I don’t.”  Dís smiled, and she settled herself into her comfortable chair.  “I’ve known him all my life, and he helped me get through my husband’s death, too.”

“That was kind of him.”

“My Vili, who was a cousin to Glóin, was a good husband, but we were only married for a short time.  He was killed during a cave-in, may his soul rest in the Halls of our Fathers.”

“I am sorry, Dís.”

She waved her hand.  “It’s funny how much I think of him lately.  Maybe it helps to remind me that the hurt truly does fade, and one day I’ll remember Thorin and my boys with fondness, too.  Oh, I loved that Dwarf!  I imagine it was like when you first met Kili; you _know_ when you meet your One, don’t you?”

Tauriel nodded her head, but said nothing. 

“Fili took after his Sire, you know; determined, serious, loyal to a fault.  Buy my Kili took after me.  He did everything with his whole heart, and would plunge head-first into any new adventure he could find.  Thorin was always having to yank him back by his beltloops.” She laughed.  “Just like he had to do with me, when we were young.  Thorin looked out for me, like Fili looked after his brother, didn’t he?

“Anyway, I was still carrying Kili, when Thorin came and told me my husband was killed.  Vili was working a vein of silver with the group he was leading, and heard those first groans from the Mountain.  He cleared all the tunnels, quick as he could, but there was a young lad with his leg stuck under a boulder, and my husband wouldn’t leave him, no matter how much the boy begged him to go.” 

Dís looked down at her mug of ale.  “But that was my Vili, through and through, and I wouldn’t have wanted him any other way.” She shook her head. “He ordered everyone to stay back and had just managed to free the lad and send him out, when the tunnel gave way.”

“Your husband saved lives.”

“Hundreds of them.  He was every bit a hero as my brother and sons."  She refilled their glasses of whiskey. "There are some who might tell you that’s no comfort, dearie, but they’re wrong, at least for me.  I’m proud of what my husband did!  I’m proud of my brother, too; he did something no other Durin was able to do – throw off the Sickness!!  And my boys gave their lives to protect and save our people, and knowing that gets me through the day.” The Dam gave her a sad smile and shrugged. “Well, some days, anyway.”

Changing the subject, Dís looked around.  “I never thought I’d be in my rooms here again…. I was born and raised in this place, but I realize now, it will never be home to me.  I remember when the Dragon came like it was yesterday.”  She sighed, and looked at Tauriel. “I remember the Elf King, back then, too.”

Tauriel winced.  “I am sorry for any misunderstandings that caused you to hate him.  He really is not-–“

“Hate him?  Where did you get that idea, child?”

“Well, I know King Thorin –“

“My brother was a fool, child.  Don’t get me wrong; I’ll love him to my dying day and beyond that, but I saw what the damned Arkenstone did to my Sire, and my Grandsire and I saw what it was doing to my brother.”  She spat.  “Gold-sickness my arse…  If Dáin hadn’t made sure that damned thing was thrown in the pit, I would have done it myself.”

 _“Ada_ thinks it was of same materials as the Silmarils, and refused to touch it.”

“Your Da was right, Tauriel.  I was there when my brother demanded King Thranduil kill that Worm.  I couldn’t say it out loud then, of course, but your Thranduil was right to refuse.”  Dís smiled at Tauriel.  “I also know all about those supplies he gave to my folk.  Thorin hated him, yes, but I never did.” She tilted her head to look at the tall, lean red-haired elf.  “I think you and I will get along fine.”

Tauriel held out her hand.  “I know I cannot make up for those we mourn, but I hope in some small way you would allow me try.  Had things things been different, you would have been my mother, and I would cherish you, thus.”

“Had things been different, you would’ve been a good wife to my son.” Dís took the hand she offered, with tears filling her eyes.  “I’d like that, lass.  I’d like that very much.”

 

***************

**Erebor, 29 th of July, 2942 T.A.**

This trip to Erebor wasn’t just a vacation, of course.  Bard, Thranduil and Dáin met daily to go over issues that had arisen since their original summit last December.  Everyone was happy with the agreement made back then, which were mostly economic. 

The main objectives for these talks was to address the relations of their respective people.  Three races lived in the North, each with a rich history and a culture that should be celebrated and preserve as much as possible.  How to do this, and still respect the differences of others?  How can their leaders help their people with this?

Bard pointed out that there would be Elven teachers in Dale to instruct the children in Sindarin.  Would Dáin like to have Dwarven instructors come and teach Khuzdul?

“I understand that much of the nature of Dwarven culture is based in secrecy, and I don’t want to disrespect that, but I would at least like the Prince and Princesses to become fluent in the histories and languages of the North, if they can.  In addition, I would like to send tutors from my Kingdom to teach your children and grandchildren the same.”

“And I would offer the same from my Kingdom, if you are willing.” Thranduil offered.  “We must look to preserve what we have accomplished.  I do not have many children in the Woodland Realm as of yet, but there will be, and I think we should have a plan in place.”

After a small discussion, it was done, and they moved on:

Thranduil brought up the “exchange program” between his Kingdom and Lothlórien, and requested that the Wardens of the Golden Wood be given supervised access to the Lonely Mountain.  This was granted.  At some point, Dwarves and Men would participate in this program in four or five years.  Bard’s reason was obvious; he didn’t have an Army yet, and Dáin pointed out that his people, while loyal and true, were also stubborn and one couldn’t push them too hard.

Bard talked to the King Under the Mountain about building stores to house the grain from the harvests, and discussed ways to preserve it for years when the crops weren’t fruitful. 

Reports of Orc activity were shared.  Since Dol Guldur was emptied, things had gotten better in Thranduil’s woods.  Most of them had been killed in the Battle, and even now Dwarves and Elves were on the hunt to finish the rest of them off.  They would always be a constant problem, but at least for now, they enjoyed the relative peace.

 

While the leaders were hammering away at politics, the children were doing their part to foster relations between the races, mostly but just being themselves and having fun.

The high caverns of Erebor echoed with the giggling of Princesses Alda and Tilda, bringing smiles to everyone who saw them.  The small Dwarven princess liked Esta very much, and the feeling appeared to be mutual. They spent time comparing toys and Alda’s mother had arranged for both girls to get their hair braided and beaded, Dwarven style, and spent hours together, playing.

 

Bain and Rhys had a blast with Prince Náin, and were busy riding, sparring (supervised, of course), shooting arrows, and pretty much whatever got them active, sweaty and dirty.  _Very_ dirty.

 “ _Ai!  What_ have you been doing?” Galion gasped, the second day of their trip, when the three of them came in from the practice yards.

“Wrestling!” Bain was grinning from ear to ear.  “It was great!”  he was covered in mud, from head to toe, full of bumps and bruises and it looked like his left eye was swollen a bit.

Bard and Alun chose just that time to come out of one the conference rooms. 

“What the bloody f…” Alun murmured, before he started to laugh.

“Boys will be boys, no matter where they come from, I guess.” The King of Dale grinned, and put his hands on his hips.  “Well? Who won?”

“I have no idea, My Lord,” Rhys laughed.  “It was raining and there was so much mud and we all piled in and-–“

“I hope we did not cause offense, Lord Bard,” Prince Náin bowed, and clump of sod fell from his hair.

“Oh, don’t worry about that.  You boys looked like you had fun, but just-–“ He took in the filthy state of them.  You’ll clog up the pipes bathing with that dirt!”

“Don’ worry, Bard.” Dwalin and Feren came up just then. “We’ll look after ‘em.”

“Where are you taking them?”

“There's a waterfall with a pool just outside the North door.  We’ll take ‘em outside and throw ‘em in.”  Feren joined in the Dwarf’s laugh and it bounced around the cavern.

“Send them all to Óin and Daeron when they’re done, if you would.  They can take care of any bumps and bruises.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Feren nodded.

“To the river!” Rhys said, and jabbed Bain. “Race you!” 

"Follow me!"  Náin yelled, and the trio took off a top speed for the entrance of the Mountain, leaving muddy footprints in their wake.

 

Sigrid was having a great time, too.  She liked Princess Dura, and of Dáin’s grandsons was also interested in the Healing Arts, so they spent a great deal of time, with Daeron and Óin, and when she wasn’t doing that, she was visiting with the smaller Dwarflings and fussing over the baby.

“She’s so cute, Da!” Sigrid said on night, when they were getting ready for bed. “I went with Daeron to examine Princess Vís.  _Ada_ told him she wasn’t doing well.”

“Daeron?” Bard was surprised, then remembered, “That's right.  He delivered Dwarves in Dale, too; I remember him saying something about that.  So?  Did he help her?”

“He did.  She had a slight infection, and nothing Óin had given her seemed to work, so he took care of it.  Then I got to help with the baby and sit with her for a while.”

“Glad you had fun, Darling.” Bard kissed her brow.  “Good night.”

 

**Erebor, 30 th of July, 2942 T.A.**

All the kids were having fun, but the highlight for them was luncheon on the third day of the trip.  The adults were busy with their food, and the conversation was lively and friendly, but they began to notice an increase in the noise level at the children’s table.

“Sounds like the kids are having fun,” Bard said to Thranduil.  They were facing away from them, but Tilda’s giggle could clearly be heard in the mix.

Across from them, Galion suddenly gasped in horror, which got everyone’s attention. 

“What is it?” Thranduil asked. 

Percy began to laugh.  “What was that you said about ‘following the customs of the Kingdom you visit?’  Look.”  He pointed.

 _“Ai!”_ Thranduil grabbed his husband’s arm.  “Bard!  Look at our children!”

The activity at the children’s table was boisterous, because they were having a food fight.  Even Sigrid was laughing, and there was his little _Tithen Pen_ , with a big blob of mashed potatoes in her hair, gleefully smashing some of it in Rhys’s face.

The Dwarves thought it was hilarious, and Thranduil was surprised to find he did too.

“My Lord-–“ Galion started to get up.

“Peace, _Mellon nîn_ ; Percy is right. They are enjoying the customs of our host. I think,” the Elvenking grinned at Bard and Dáin, “the Ambassadors at the other table are ensuring the success of our trip, do you not agree?”

Feren shook his head.  “Galion still remembers when we were small.”

“How could I forget it?”  Despite himself, Galion smiled.  “At least these children are aiming at each other.  A certain Elven Prince hit me full in the face with a blueberry pie.”

“You, Thranduil?” Balin chuckled.

“In my defense, I was aiming it at Feren-–“

“—but I ducked,” Feren grinned,  “just as Galion came in the dining room.”

Everyone at table roared with laughter.

“Aye, well.” Dilna rose, “Come on; let’s rescue these bairns.” She was followed by the rest of the parents, and together, they managed to wipe the worst of it off the smaller kids.

“Can we jump in the river again?” Bain asked, eagerly.  Tilda heard that, and gave her _Ada_ a pleading look.

“Why not?” Bard shrugged.  “Just keep to the shallow parts, and hold your sister’s hand.  And if she gets cold, bring her in.”

“I’ll do that, Da.” Sigrid said, and took Tilda’s hand, then turned to Princess Dura. “Come on! It’ll be fun!”

“We may as well bring the bairns some towels.” Queen Dilna was standing next to Hilda, who was shaking her head, with a smile.

“Bard’s kids grew up on the water,” she told the Queen.  “Once they get wet, we’ll be hard-pressed to get them out.”

“We’ll all go.” Dáin said, and turned to the attendants. “Bring out some chairs.  We’ll ‘ave our our drinks by the falls. Come on you lot!”

The adults followed the eager crowd of children as the group merrily made their way out a side door, and the kids stripped down to their underclothes and waded in.  

It was wonderful. As the warm summer sun peeked through the trees, they watched their children play together.   

Tilda got out when her fingers got pruny, so Thranduil wrapped her in a bunch of towels, and she cuddled in his lap.  Eventually, her eyes drooped and she took her afternoon nap in his arms.  Even Bard waded in up to his knees, but the kids wouldn’t let him get away with it, and soon he was whooping and splashing with the rest of them.

The impromptu picnic might have delayed their scheduled talks for that day, but nobody really cared, because the children did more for their countries by the small waterfall, than any treaty could.

 

***************

**Erebor, 31 st of July, 2942 T.A.**

Thranduil, Bard and the family took great care getting ready for the formal banquet on their last evening of their trip.

Bard helped him fasten Girion's necklace around his throat, and put the sapphire and diamond circlet on his head.  “There.  Looks great, love.”

“Thank you, _Meleth nîn_.” Thranduil turned his head back and forth in the mirror to make sure it was even.  “I am surprised Galion has not bothered me about wearing the other one.”

“He won’t either.”

“What do you mean?” Thranduil turned in his chair to face Bard, who was sitting on the bed, buttoning up his tunic, and arranging his hair.

“I went to Galion, and ‘confessed’ that it was damaged, and when I took it to be repaired, it fell into the caverns.”

“Well, it was not a lie, and it _was_ damaged...”

“He doesn’t need to know it was because you threw it across the room.” Bard gave him a lopsided grin.  “Twice.”

“A minor detail; not worth mentioning.”

“And it _did_ fall into the caverns…”

 “That is also true.”

“I also told Galion you were _very upset_ about that crown, and you didn’t want to talk about it.  After all, it belonged to your father…”

Thranduil came over and set his chin on Bard’s shoulder.  “I _was_ terribly upset…”

“Anyway, he ended up feeling very sorry for you, and hopefully, that will be the end of it.”

Thranduil kissed him.  “Thank you, My King.”

Thranduil looked at his husband quizzically.  “What are you thinking?”

Bard had a thought.  “What if Galion tries to replace it?”

 _“Ai…”_   The Elvenking’s eyes widened. “I had not thought of that.”

 Bard got up and pulled Thranduil to his feet, “You’re on our own with that one; there aren’t any bottomless pits in Dale.  Now, come on.”

Thranduil went to his trunk and removed the two square boxes, holding items they’d  ordered from Dáin.

They went out into the common area of their suite, to see if anyone else was ready.  Bain was sitting on the couch in his black leggings and burgundy tunic and new boots.

“You look splendid, _Ion nîn_ ,” Thranduil smiled his approval.  “How do the boots fit?”

“Pretty good, but a little stiff.”

“The only cure for that is wearing them, son.” Bard sympathized.  “You look every inch a crown prince.”

“ _Ada_?” Sigrid’s voice called out from the girl’s room. “I need help with my hair!”

“Coming, _Iellig.”_  

Sigrid was wearing a royal blue gown, with gold trim, with three-quarter-length sleeves.  It was a simple style, but well-cut and elegant.  Though appropriately modest for a young girl, she looked much older than her sixteen years, and very beautiful.

Thranduil stepped over to where she was seated in front of the mirror, and proceeded to braid and arrange her hair in a large arrangement of swirls and waves at the nape of her neck, and expertly styled the shorter, curly strands to frame her face.  Like Tilda, the summer sun had streaked her brown locks with natural golden highlights, but her skin, though tanned, remained free of freckles.  “The last time I did your hair was your birthday.”

“I remember.” She smiled up at him.  “I’ll never forget that night.”

The Elvenking returned her smile, as he stroked her cheek.  “And I will never forget _you_ that night.  It is always an honor to dance with the most beautiful young woman in Dale.”

“What about me?” Tilda said, from her perch on the bed. 

“You looked pretty then, and you are prettier now,” Thranduil answered her.  “No, _hênig_ ,” he turned to Tilda, “leave those boxes alone.”

“What are they?” Tilda was curious.

“You will see,” he told her.  “Sigrid? Where is your jewelry?”

“There,” she pointed to the box on top of her trunk.

The Elf took her garnet tiara from its box and carefully placed it on her head and fastened it with hairpins.  “There.  How is that?”

Sigrid smiled.  “Great!  Could you fasten my necklace?”

“I can.”  He helped with her bracelet, as well, then he turned to Tilda.  “Now, stand up and let me see…” 

Her dress was green this evening, with short, puffy sleeves and a high waistline, with dragonflies embroidered on the bodice in silver.  She held up her skirts and showed _Ada_ the matching silver slippers.

“You look adorable, _Tithen Pen_.”

“And I’ve got my necklace from Uncle Dáin!” Tilda she held up the little diamond the King Under the Mountain had sent her, when she was so ill last winter.

“He will be pleased you are wearing it.”

Tilda looked at her sister’s jewelry wistfully, and sighed.  “How should I wear my hair?”

Thranduil handed her the smaller of his two boxes, “with this.”

Tilda opened the box and squealed.  Inside was a thin headband, decorated with small diamonds, and the same small dragonfly Tilda had worn to her sister’s party.

“ _Ada!_  It’s so pretty!  Sigrid, look!  It matches my dress!”

“It’s perfect, Til.  Here.” She got up from her chair.  “Sit here and have _Ada_ do your hair.”

“Would you like the dragonfly on your headband, or in your hair?”

“Could you put it up again, like Sigrid’s party?  I could wear the band in front, like hers.”

“It could be worn as a tiny tiara, yes.” Thranduil grinned. 

Tilda grinned and clapped her hands together. “Goodie!”

As the Elf arranged her hair and placed the decorations, Tilda asked, “What’s in the other box?”

“I have three daughters, do I not?”

“Ooh!”  Sigrid regarded it eagerly.  “For Tauriel?”

“Yes, and it is a surprise, so please do not open it.  She will be here in a few moments.” 

Soon, both girls were ready and when they went out to the common area, their Da was completely bowled over.

Tilda ran over to him first. “Da!  Lookee what _Ada_ got me!” and turned back and forth to show him. “It sparkles!”

Bard smiled and bent down and kissed her cheek.  “It’s almost as pretty as you, Beanie.  Now, where’s your sister-–“

Sigrid stepped out from behind Thranduil, and when Bard saw her, his breath caught. 

“Oh…”  He swallowed.  “Oh my…” 

Sigrid turned around, and her dress swirled over the smooth, stone floor.  “Is it all right?”

Bard cleared his throat, then held her face in his hands.  “You look just like your mother did on our wedding day.” He kissed her forehead.  “I thought that no one could be more beautiful, but I was wrong.  You’re a vision, darling.”

“Oh, Da…”  She hugged him. 

 “Just remember, Sea Monsters: NO food fights tonight.  We will act like Royalty from Dale, yeah?”

Just then, there was a knock on the door, then Tauriel came in.  Her dress was light purple, and her hair was done with elaborate Elven braids.

“You all look wonderful!” she exclaimed with a smile. 

“So do you, love.” Bard came over and kissed her cheek.  “You just need the finishing touch.”

“What do you mean?” Tauriel was bemused.

“ _Ada_ and Da got you something!” Tilda was grinning.

Thranduil stepped forward with the box.  “You are a Princess of Dale, and while it is long past your sixteenth birthday, the traditions will be observed.  Here,” he handed it to her, “This is an early Begetting day present for you, _Gwinïg_.  Dain, Bard and I wanted you to have it for tonight."

Her eyes widened, as she took the box, from her _Ada_. 

“Open it!  Hurry!” Tilda squeaked, jumping up and down with excitement.

Tauriel lifted the latch, and everyone gasped.  there in the black velvet was a beautiful jewelry set, which included a diadem, a necklace and a bracelet, done in yellow gold (which is tradition for Dale) but fashioned in Elvish style, as befitting her heritage.  The headpiece greatly resembled Thranduil’s sapphire and diamond one, as a tribute to her status as his daughter, but finer lines, accented with Peridots and diamonds, in honor of the month of August.

“Oh, it’s gorgeous!  It’s just so gorgeous!” Sigrid cried.  “You _have_ to put it on!  _Ada_ , can you help her?”

“I would be honored.” He took Tauriel’s hand, kissed it and carefully placed the headpiece.  Sigrid insisted on helping her with her necklace, and Tilda tried to help with the bracelet, but she was too excited, and her fingers were fumbly.

“You can help me take it off, later, _Tithen Pen_ , will that be all right?” Tauriel smiled at her.

“All right.  You look _so_ pretty!”

“See how lovely you look, _Gwinïg_.” Thranduil took her into their room, to the full-length mirror.

“Oh…” Tauriel’s eyes swam, as she reached up to touch her forehead.  “I look –“

“You look, like a daughter of Kings,” Thranduil kissed her cheek.  “And I am honored to be your father.”

 “Come on, everybody, we need to get going.” Bard mustered the group.  “We don’t want to be late.”

Thranduil took Tauriel’s elbow, and waited until everyone else went through the door.  “Are you sure you will be all right?  I know you said you would not mind Bofur’s song, but if you feel at all uncomfortable during the performance, I will be happy to…”

“No, _Ada_.” She put her arm around his waist and hugged him.  “You told me it is important to face these things, did you not?” She looked up at him.  “I know it is important for our countries that I be there, but that is not why I want to do this.”

“I care nothing about politics, when it comes to the welfare of my children.” Thranduil assured her.  “What would be your reason?” he smiled down at her. 

“Lady Dís will be there, and I want to support her.  She has no more family, _Ada_ , and I will not let her bear it alone.”

“ _Gwinïg_ …” he kissed her hair. “I bless the day the Valar placed you in my arms.”  Thranduil offered her his arm. “I would be honored to escort the most beautiful Elf to the party.  May I?”

“The honor is mine.” She placed her hand on top of his, off they went.

 

It was indeed a formal meal, for it was held on the now-famous Golden Floor of the Hall of Kings.  The children of both races were on their very best behavior (for which Galion was _most_ relieved), and the food was delicious.

After the meal, the speeches and well-wishes, and it was time for the concert.  Thranduil and Bard had been told that Bofur and his musicians had been hard at work, turning his song into a larger, multilayered production, which now included a chorus and some soloists to depict the journey of the Dwarves to reclaim the Lonely Mountain.  He also translated it into the Common Tongue, for their Royal guests.

Before the music could begin, however, it was time for the youngest attendees to take their leave.  Galion smiled, took Tilda’s hand, and waited patiently as she bid goodnight to her family and to their hosts.

“I could stay, Da.  I’d be very good.”

“No, Little Bean.  You’ve had a big week. Anyway, they’ll be singing about fierce battles and lots of fighting and you don’t like that.  Go on with Uncle Galion, love.  Give your Uncle Percy and Auntie Hil, a kiss first.”

Tilda reluctantly agreed, and left with the rest of the small children.

Everyone became quiet, and the lamps dimmed, as Nori stepped forward, put his fiddle under his chin, and began to draw his bow across the strings in a slow, sinuous motion, and a mournful melody began to echo through the Giant Hall. 

Bofur, accompanied by the harmonies of the chorus behind him, began to sing his story, and the music’s ebb and flow easily helped the listeners to imagine the scenes:  

> _The Unexpected Party at Bilbo’s house in the Shire…_
> 
> _Their time in Rivendell…_
> 
> _The Thunder-Battle in the Misty Mountains, meeting the Goblins, and being dragged before the Goblin King…_

Everyone shuddered when they were huddled in the burning trees fighting the Defiler, and they breathed a sigh of relief when the Eagles came to their rescue. 

> _Beorn and his house came to their mind with it’s bees, birdsong and lovely scenery…_
> 
> _Then the Company made their way to Mirkwood, and that was when Prince Kili met the Elven maid, Tauriel, foster-daughter of the King of the Woodland Realm._
> 
> _During the Feast of Starlight, Tauriel sat on the steps outside his cell, as he told her of the stone his mother had given him, the promise he had made, and the Fire Moon he saw once._
> 
> The music picked up tempo.  Gloin played his pipes, and Bombur’s drum beat a steady rhythm as Bofur captivated them with the tale of their dangerous ride down the river in barrels. 
> 
> _Kili, had been shot with a poisoned arrow, still managed to open the gates, and Prince Legolas Greenleaf, chased those Orcs down the river and killed many of the fell beasts!_

Bard felt like he was there, when they sang of the night Orcs invaded his house.  His heart pounded at the thought of those beasts trying to kill his children, and he was grateful when Thranduil took his hand and squeezed it.

> _They escaped the Night of the Fires, and stood on the shores of the Long Lake, where Kili gave her his mother’s stone as a promise, and called her “Âmralîmê.”_

At this, Thranduil turned to Tauriel, to see if she was all right.  She was seated next to Dís, and the Dwarrowdam had a tight hold on her hand. 

> _The Battle of the Five Armies threatened to slaughter all the Dwarves, and King Thranduil, fearing the extinction of his people, thought to retreat, but Tauriel boldly demanded he save the Dwarves.  Prince Legolas, stepped in the way of the King’s wrath and though he loved Tauriel deeply, agreed to help warn Thorin and the Princes, because he would not never deny her heart’s deepest wish…_

Bard must have seen Thranduil’s face, because he moved his chair closer, so he could put his arm around him.  “Are you all right, love?” He whispered softly.

Thranduil just nodded, with a brave smile. This story wasn’t about him, and the pain he felt was for his daughter.

The tempo of the music changed as did the melody, when Bofur began to sing the saddest part of the story:    

> _Kili and Tauriel struggled with Bolg on Ravenhill, and though they fought valiantly, Tauriel reached out with an anguished cry, when Bolg plunged his weapon deep into Kili’s heart.  As he lay dying and unable to talk, bade her farewell with the one lonely tear on his cheek._

Both Tauriel and Dís started to cry at this, and Dwalin and Sigrid left their seats to support them, as the song went on: 

> _Thinking Bolg had killed Tauriel, Legolas, Elven Prince performed impossible feats to gain the upper hand in their fight, and eventually plunged is long knife into the evil creature’s skull and, and twisted it with angry satisfaction. Bolg, the evil spawn of Azog, was dead at last…_
> 
> _Thorin Oakenshield sacrificed his life, to stop Azog the Defiler once and for all, for slaughtering his nephews, for trying to wipe out his people, and for doing the Dark Lord’s bidding in order to destroy the North._

The the production had to pause for a moment, as applause reverberated through the Hall.  Once it died down, a new song started:

> _Tauriel  wept over the body of her beloved and put the stone from his mother back in Prince Kili’s hand, as poor Legolas went off to heal his broken heart._
> 
> _The sight of her sorrow melted the ice in the heart of the Mighty Elvenking (from the death of his own wife), and how he was moved to tears over Tauriel’s anguish.  He mourned his son’s departure, of course, but realized that Prince Kili was a good and honorable Dwarf, and worthy of his foster-daughter’s love…_
> 
> _When Prince Kili’s comrades came to take away his body, the King of the Woodland Realm not only honored him with an Elven salute of respect, but paid Dwarven courtesy by bowing low before the fallen Prince_.

Now came the verse about the Stone of Promise:   

> _“Come Back to Me,” it said, and for now, it is safely in Prince Kili’s hand, waiting for the day when his mother will join him in the Halls of their Fathers, so he can return it to her.  Kili sings about his beloved; though his love for Tauriel is never-ending, he wishes her nothing but joy, as he keeps watch over her for always…_

At this point, if there were still any residents of the Lonely Mountain who were not convinced that the Northern Kingdoms was a bad idea, final coup d'état that endeared them to their new Elven neighbors was the last song in Bofur’s production.  This was the song Bard and Thranduil had heard when Balin and Ori came to Dale, and the Elvenking was glad their daughter could hear it, and hoped it would offer comfort to Lady Dis, as well.

(The song, called “Beside you,” was the highly-anticipated finale to Bofur’s production.  It reveals how Tauriel now wanders in the Forests near her home in Dale, thinking of her Prince and remembering the love she lost, before it ever really began, and how Kili still offers her solace, from his place in the Halls of his Fathers).

Two spotlights appeared, and Ori stepped into one in his formalwear to sing Kili’s part.  He was joined by an attractive, blonde Dwarrowdam, dressed in all her finery, and she would sing the Lament of Tauriel.

Nori’s fiddle was put down and he stepped back in the shadows, while Bombur changed to his wider Bodhrán, and began to beat a slow, low rhythm which bounced around the hall.  These were joined by the haunting sounds of a Long-whistle played reverently by Bifur.

The Dam sang the part of Tauriel, the Elf Maiden, in a high, clear voice: 

 

> How can the small flowers grow,
> 
> If the wild winds blow,
> 
> And the cold snow is all around?
> 
>  
> 
> And where will the frail birds fly,
> 
> If their homes on high,
> 
> Have been torn down to the ground?
> 
>  
> 
> Hear the winds,
> 
> That carried you away, and do you
> 
> Hear the trees as they try to comfort me?
> 
> But though I'm miles and miles apart from you,
> 
> You’re beside me, when I think of you,
> 
> Amrâlimê....

 

Ori opened his mouth, and his contralto voiced Kili’s response to the Elf Maiden’s pleas: 

 

> _Your flow’rs still bloom in spring,_
> 
> _And your birds still sing,_
> 
> _The warm sun will soothe your fears..._
> 
> _When stars fill the night sky,_
> 
> _Lift your face and cry,_
> 
> _And they will dry your tears..._
> 
>  
> 
> _Curse the winds,_
> 
> _That carried me away from you, but I_
> 
> _Bless the stars as they shine to comfort you,_
> 
> _And though though you walk in starlight in another world,_
> 
> _I'm beside you, when you think of me,_
> 
> _Amrâlimê_ … 

The Maiden sang again: 

> How can a tree stand tall,
> 
> If the rain won't fall,
> 
> To wash its branches down?
> 
>  
> 
> And how can a heart survive,
> 
> Can it stay alive,
> 
> If its love is denied for long?
> 
>  
> 
> Lift the wings,
> 
> That carry me away from here and,
> 
> Hear the trees as they sing their song to me.
> 
> But when I'm miles and miles apart from you,
> 
> You’re beside me, when I think of you, Amrâlimê
> 
> But you are with me, as I dream of you,
> 
> Amrâlimê… 

The Dwarven Prince responded: 

 

> _I’m beside you when you think of me, Amrâlimê_
> 
> _I’ll be with you, when you dream of me,_
> 
> _Amrâlimê…_ ****

They sang the last verse together, with Kili echoing the plaintive voice of Tauriel, as they vow to always keep the other in their hearts:  

 

> And my song will bring you near to me,
> 
> _And Mahal  will bring you joy, again…_
> 
> And I’ll always remember you…
> 
> _And I will always watch over you_
> 
> **_Amrâlimê_** , **_My Love..._**

The Dwarrowdam continued singing the melody in non-lexical vocals, which added to the atmosphere, as the lamps slowly dimmed, until the entire Hall was in complete darkness.

Above them, high on the catwalks of the Hall of Kings, four deep, male voices began to sing, in a much slower, meaningful cadence, and everyone present knew this chorus was not meant for Tauriel.   All could see and feel the loving presence of Lady Dís’s husband, brother, and sons, as they offered solace, and reminded her that she is never truly alone, that they will see her again, one day: 

 

 

> _Though we’re miles and miles apart from you…_
> 
> _We’ll always be thinking of you…_
> 
> _We will always watch over you…_
> 
> _And Mahal will always comfort you…_
> 
> _Amrâlimê…_

The low, mournful sounds of Bifur’s Long-whistle filled the the air, and the slow, thrumming beats of Bombur’s large Bodhrán echoed off the walls and ceiling, until they finally died down.

Utter silence reigned for several minutes, as the audience tried to absorb the magic of what just happened.  There wasn’t a dry eye in that huge, cavernous Hall, and when the lamps were slowly turned up, the tears became evident.

Then everyone in the legendary Hall of Kings were on their feet, and the air exploded with applause, and the Alliance of the Northern Kingdoms gained the loyalty of every resident of the Lonely Mountain.

"Look, love," Bard whispered to Thranduil, as if the Elvenking needed any reminding.  His eyes met with Dain, as they observed the effect the concert had on those dear to them.   

Tauriel was on her feet, with her arm around the Dwarrowdam's shoulders, both of them smiling through their tears.  Dís was looking up, with her hand over her heart, knowing that this goodbye wasn't really forever, and she would see them again, when it was her time to leave Middle Earth. 

And Tauriel would go on to live and love and have the blessed life that Kili wishes for her.

 

This night was recorded in the History books as the stuff of which the greatest romantic tales are made, and the fact that it was all true, sent many young Dwarrowdams off to sleep, dreaming of someone who could love them as much as Prince Kili loved his beautiful, fiery Elf Maid.

 

**TRANSLATIONS:**

_Ai-menu duzhuk, Tauriel-uzbadiya –_ (Khuzdul) I’m at your service, Princess Tauriel

 _Suilad, Brennil vuil Dís –_ Greetings, beloved Lady Dís

 _Govano i nothrim în ah i mellyn în mi Mannos_.  _Gi melin urieb, Kili -_ May you join your family and friends in the afterlife.  I love you always, Kili

 _Iellig_ – My daughter

 _Gwinig_ – “Little Fingers” a pet name for Tauriel; when she was little, she got into everything.

 _Amrâlimê_ – (Khuzdul) My love

 

**NOTES:**

“Came Glasswork” according to Wikipedia:  “Came Glasswork is the process of joining cut pieces of art glass through the use of came strips or foil into picturesque designs in a framework of soldered metal. Final products include a wide range of glasswork, including stained glass and lead light pieces.”  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Came_glasswork

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bowen is introduced to a new friend, which meets with approval from the Potter and his wife.
> 
> Bard and Percy solve a mystery, for which a certain Elvenking is richly rewarded.
> 
> Old Ben finally gets off work in time for dinner with his daughter and grandson, and unwittingly drops a bomb…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “Elf Thing” for this chapter was at the request of my “ Superfan,” Leemitage. So, pour yourself a glass of wine and enjoy, sweetie!

 

 

 

_“Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"_

** -Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights **

 

 

**City of Dale, 12 th of August, 2942 T.A.**

Turamarth answered the knock on the door of his apartment to find Ivran, Bain and Rhys, standing there with huge grins on their faces.

“Hi, Tur! Where’s Bowen?” Bain asked excitedly. “Is he here?”

“He is, Lord Bain.  Please, come in.”  The Elf stepped aside so they could enter, and called out,  “Bowen!  You have visitors.”

The boy came out from the spare room.  “Hi,” he said, quietly.

“ _Ada_ says you’re to come right away; he’s got something for you.” 

Bowen looked up at Turamarth curiously.  “Do you know what it is?”

“I do, but I wanted it to be a surprise.  Get your shoes on and we will see.”

The day in Dale was cloudy and warm, but rain wasn’t imminent, so they enjoyed the walk, and Turamarth was encouraged to see how Bain and Rhys were keeping Bowen engaged in conversation.

Ivran came beside him and asked.  “How did Bowen sleep last night?”

“Fitfully, I think.  His stomach is better, but that is only because Daeron keeps a close eye on the ulcer he found.  He is eating more, but only when we urge him to.”

“How was his visit with Maddox and Owena yesterday?”

“It went fine, but he got tense when the babe started to cry, and when Mistress Anna took her to the other room to put her down for a nap, Bowen seemed angry and resentful.” Turamarth turned to look at Ivran.  “Have you noticed this behavior?”

“I have.  I do not think the boy is conscious of it; he is probably having difficulty adjusting to someone else looking after them.  He does well with Maddox, of course, and the child is thrilled to see him, but gets upset when Bowen leaves with us.  We need to keep in mind that the younger brother is dealing with the loss of both his mother _and_ his brother, although that is temporary.

Sighing, Turamarth said.  “I have thought about that, but I do not think it can be helped. We need to put our energies into helping Bowen, so that we can get them back together.”

They reached the Courtyard, and went up the steps to the big doors of the Great Hall, just as Lord Thranduil came out to meet them.

“Good morning, Bowen,” the Elvenking smiled.  “How are you today?”

“Fine, My Lord,” the boy bowed politely, but barely met his eyes.

“I am sure you have been told I have something for you,” Thranduil smiled at his son and friend.  “If you would please come with me to the barns, I will show you.”

“Is it a horse?” Bowen asked.

“No, but you are welcome to ride with Bain and Rhys anytime you like.  Come along, _hênig_.  You will see, soon enough.”

 

Upon entering the barns, Bain’s and Rhys’ excitement grew, and it rubbed off on Bowen, if the small smile on his face was any indication.   The Elvenking led them to the door of one of the box stalls and stopped to speak:

“First of all, I would like to return something to you, Bowen.”  He handed the boy one of his shirts.  “Mistress Anna loaned me this from your things, and it was sent to the Woodland Realm to be used for training purposes.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Lord Bard and I have noticed Thangon’s companionship has been beneficial, so we have arranged, with your mother’s permission, and Anna and Daffyd’s cooperation, of course, to give you this.”  He stepped aside and indicated to Bowen.  “Go ahead, child.  Meet your new friend.”

Bowen grabbed the handle and slid the door open.  A large dog, of the same breed as Thangon lifted its head to look at him, curiously.  This one was slightly smaller, and had a dark, brindled coat, as opposed to Thangon’s solid fawn. 

“This is Beriel, and she is three years old.  I have it on good authority from her breeder, that she has a friendly and calm temperament, and I have purchased her for you.”

“She’s…  you mean she’s _mine?”_

“She is all yours.  In fact, she has been anxious to meet you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Beriel learned your scent from the shirt, so she knows you are her master.”  He grinned down at the boy.  “Go on.  See for yourself.”

Bowen entered the box rather timidly, and Beriel stayed very still, and patiently waited for Bowen to approach.  Her ears perked up, and her nose twitched, as she recognized the smell of him, and her tail began to thump on the straw bed underneath her.

“Now, show her the back of your hand, and let her sniff it for a few minutes.” 

Bowen slowly lifted his hand and extended it, fingers under.  Beriel whined with excitement and her tail wagged faster, as she licked his hand.

“She knows me!” Bowen began to stroke her head, then the big dog got up from the ground and began to lick his face in earnest, making him laugh.

Turamarth and Ivran smiled; this was the first laugh they’d heard from the boy.

“Isn’t she great?” Rhys asked.

“Aye,” Bowen said, quietly.  “She really is.  And she’s all mine…” A thought occurred to the boy.  “Does she have to stay here, or can I take her home?”

“She will come with us, Bowen, and when you are ready to join your family, she will go with you.”  Turamarth told him.  “It is all arranged.”

“She will?” His face lit up. 

“She is yours to keep.” Thranduil smiled.  “One of the things we will need to do, is to teach you how to speak to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“She has been well-trained in the manner of all dogs in the Woodland Realm, in Elven language of Quenya.”

“I didn’t know Elves had more than one language.  Is it hard?”

“You will learn it very quickly.” Thranduil said, and produced a leather leash.  “Now, snap this onto her collar, and say, _‘Beriel, Ambë!’”_

Bowen repeated the phrase, and the dog immediately jumped to her feet.  She kept her eyes trained on him, waiting to be told what to do next.

“Look at that! Did that mean ‘get up?’”

“It did.  Now say, her first name, and the word ‘ _lelyë_ _,’_ and she will come with us.”

“Beriel, _lelyë!”_

The big dog followed obediently on the boy’s left side as the troupe made their way back to the Castle, where Thranduil had to return to his duties, then continued toward the Market Square, to Turamarth’s apartment.  

He and Ivran were encouraged to see Bowen become more animated as he walked with Rhys and Bain, as they made plans to get together with Thangon for all kinds of activities.  Beriel seemed just as enamored with her new owner, and looked up at Bowen with her dark brown eyes.

“The commands are hard at first,” Bain was telling him.  “But you’ll get the hang of it.  I had to write them down on a piece of paper and keep them in my pocket at first.  Maybe you should do that, too.”

“Could Bain and Rhys, come over, Tur?”

“Certainly,” the Elf answered.

Bowen’s face became earnest, “Could you see if Ermon would allow me to show Beriel to my Mam?  I think she would like her.”

The Guard smiled.  “I think it would do your mother a great deal of good to see a smile on your face, again.”

Bowen stroked the dog’s head in wonder.  He still couldn’t bring himself to look up at night at the stars, let alone speak to them.  He was too hurt, too disappointed, and he didn’t know if he  ever could, but his new friend might give him something warm and tangible to hold on to.  Beriel could maybe calm the frenzy of dark thoughts that continued to swirl around him.

 

***************

 

“Tom, come and see this!”

The Potter’s wife called to him from the front of the store.

“What is it, Maggie?”  The man came out, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Will you look at that!”

They both looked through the big window and watched the Elf King and the Guards lead the three boys and a big brindled dog.

“I don’t think that’s Lord Bard’s dog…. This one’s darker.”

“That’s young Bowen, isn’t it?” Tom asked.  “Where did they get that beast?”

“Bet you a gold coin King Thranduil got it for lad.”  She sighed with concern.  “Bowen’s so thin…  Maybe the dog will do him good.  He’s not taking his Mam’s illness well at all.”

“Who would? I still can’t believe Owen’s gone, and now Ellyn, too…” Tom shook his head, sadly.  “It’s criminal, that’s what it is.”

 “I’ll take some food over to Anna and Daffyd, tomorrow, and as long as I’m at it, I’ll drop some off at Daeron and Turamarth’s too.”

“That’d be grand.” Tom smiled at her.  “We’ll both go, then we’ll stop in to see Ellyn for a little while, yeah?”

“Tom?  I think we should give Anna and Daffyd a discount, to help with the kids, if that’s agreeable.”

Tom put his arm around his wife and kissed her temple.  “Maggie, you give those folks anything they need at no charge.  It was always the Laketown way to look after our own; now it’s the ‘Dale Way.’”

“You’re a good man.” She laid her head on his shoulder.

“Only because I have a good wife.  Maybe I don’t tell you often enough, but never doubt it, love.”

Maggie chuckled to herself, as they watched the Elf King and his group continue through the Market Square. 

“What’s so funny, love?”

“I heard somebody say Lord Thranduil used to be a real cold fish.  They say he kept to himself, and even pushed his son and Tauriel away.”  The woman shook her head. 

“It’s just a silly rumor; you know how folks love to make stuff up. _Anyone_ with eyes could that can’t be true.”  Tom kissed her again and went in the back to work.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 16 th of August, 2942 T.A.**

Bard was reading the paper in his hand, as he left his study, so he didn’t notice at it at first.

 “Pers?” He called, when he looked down.  “Do you know anything about this?”

“Know about what?”  Percy got up and came around his desk to peek out the doorway.  “Uh… nope.”

The floor of the corridor was littered with small pieces of paper.  It started at the double-doors of Bard’s and Thranduil’s bedchamber, and left a trail out to the main hall.

“Where do you suppose they came from?” Bard mused.

“No idea.  Only one way to find out.”

The King and his Steward followed the trail, like breadcrumbs, which led out to the Great Hall--

Ah.

Tilda and Thranduil were facing away from them, with the little “practice basket” Hilda hand found for her.  On her head was a crown of daisies, obviously made by childish hands.  Esta sat over to the side watching them, with a smaller daisy-chain hanging cock-eyed over one ear.

Their little girl seemed upset, so Bard and Percy quietly watched the scene unfold from the doorway, so as not to disturb them:  

> _“_ I’m not doing it right, Ada!”  Tilda’s voice was filled with frustration. “I can’t do it!”
> 
> “That is because you are still going too fast, Tithen Pen.  You must slow down.  Try not to stomp, but glide gracefully, like so,” Thranduil demonstrated a smooth walk.  “Do you see?”
> 
> “I can’t; your robe hides your feet.”
> 
> “Oh, I am sorry.” Thranduil took off his outer robe to reveal his tunic and leggings. “Now, walk and toss your ‘flower petals’ at the same time, like this.” He made the motions gracefully. Can you do that?”
> 
> “Okay…” she tried to ‘glide’ like Thranduil instructed, but she couldn’t seem to throw the bits of paper without stopping.
> 
> “I keep doing it!” she sighed dramatically.  “I can’t remember everything!”
> 
> “Yes, you will, my little love.  Now, let us go again.”  The Elvenking began to hum what must be a traditional Elven Wedding song, and the two of them walked together...

Tilda was clearly trying her best, but she was having a difficult time coordinating herself.  She would step once, then toss a handful, or four times and toss another, in an uneven pattern.  It was apparent she couldn’t do both at once.  The more she tried the more upset she became until she stomped her feet with frustration.

> “See?  I told you!  I get it all mixed up, and I miss a step and forget!”  Her eyes filled with tears.  “It’s too hard, Ada!  They’re supposed to look all pretty and even on the floor, like Auntie Hil says, but they get all clumpy!  Look!  It’s ugly!”  Her cries began in earnest, now.  _“I can’t do it, and everybody will think I’m s-stupid!”_
> 
> The Elvenking knelt to hold and comfort her, as her little body was wracked with sobs.   At one point, she winded herself, like she sometimes did when she got really upset, so Thranduil took her face in his hands, and blew into it a couple times.  As she inhaled, her cries were even louder.
> 
> “Please try to calm yourself, my Tithen Pen. No one thinks you are stupid.”
> 
> “But they will!”
> 
> “They will think no such thing, Tilda.  I promise.”
> 
> “But it’s hard to r-remember things sometimes, and my foot doesn’t always work right sometimes, and,” she sniffled, “everybody will be l-looking at me, Ada!”  She wailed, and could hardly get the words out.  “I’ll f-forget something, or I’ll t-trip and f-f-fall!  What if I f-fall in front of everybody?  They’ll s-s-see, and… _and everyb-body will **f-feel s-sorry for me!”**_   And she collapsed in tears again.

_Oh, stars…._   Bard’s heart clenched in his chest and his throat tightened. 

It was easy to forget Tilda’s problems were more than just tiring easily.  Though they were greatly lessened, she still had mood swings and occasional memory problems, but Bard was so used to looking past her disabilities, he forgot they were even there.  That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he hadn’t given a thought how it this would affect her self-confidence, especially with those outside their tight family unit.  

At only _seven years old_ , and Tilda was embarrassed, and ashamed.

Bard made a move to go comfort his Little Bean, but Percy grabbed his arm.

“No, lad.” The Steward whispered. “If we all keep rushing in to save her, she’ll only feel weaker.  Just hang back, let Thranduil handle it, and see what happens, yeah?” Percy squeezed his arm and together they continued to watch, in silence. 

> _“_ Shh… Please do not cry, Tithen Pen.” Thranduil held her and rubbed her back.   
> 
> “But I can’t do it the way you said!  If I do the flowers, I can’t tell my feet what to do, and I k-keep stopping!”
> 
> “You have been doing well, and your feet have been listening, have they not?”
> 
> “But they d-don’t always, and my l-leg gets t-tired and achy...”
> 
> He pulled back.  “Does it hurt you?  Why did you not tell me this, Tilda?”
> 
> “It just… gets achy when I’m in bed, s-sometimes,” She hiccuped.  “When we were at the Dwarf’s house, it got r-really tired, but I only remembered at n-night.”
> 
> “I see... You and Princess Alda did a lot of things together, is that not right?”
> 
> “Uh huh.”
> 
> “You also went swimming and you rode Blossom…”
> 
> “Uh huh.” Tilda wiped her eye, and she was calming down, but her chin still quivered a bit, and she continued to speak in run-on sentences as children often did.  “I d-didn’t want to tell, because I was h-having a good time, and if I told you and Da, I’d have to s-stop, and I wanted to play!”
> 
> “Of course, you wanted to play.  You want to be like every other little girl, am I right?”
> 
> Tearfully, Tilda nodded her head and began to cry again.  Esta whined, and nudged her hip to offer some support.
> 
> Thranduil looked at her with concern.  “Tilda, if  you wish, I could tell Meriel you –“
> 
> “No!” she cried, and her voice wavered again. “I really really want to, but I don’t want to look stupid, or fall…. Please, help me?”
> 
> “How about this?”  Thranduil wiped her tears with his handkerchief.  “We will ask Meriel if Esta could walk beside you down the aisle, to make sure you do not stumble.  I will send her a message today, with a Raven.”
> 
> “Would she let me?”
> 
> “I am sure, she would.  Do not forget that I will be there too, so if you become nervous, remember to look at me, and I will help.  Now,” he stood up again and lined up beside her. “let us try different approach: If you cannot throw your flower petals without stopping, we will make that a part of your walk.”
> 
> “What do you mean?”
> 
> “Repeat after me: ‘Step, step, toss. Step, step, toss.’  You try it.”
> 
> Tilda repeated it a few times.
> 
> “That is correct.  Do not worry about the music, or the way you walk or even the number of petals you use.” The Elvenking said.  “We will take two steps, like so…” he demonstrated, and stopped to toss imaginary petals. 
> 
> “So, it wouldn’t be bad if I stop?”
> 
> “No, because it will be on purpose, like dance steps.  Everyone likes to see dancing do they not?”
> 
> “I like it when Elves do those turns and things.”
> 
> “It will be just like that, and you will be very pretty and graceful.”
> 
> “Really?” 
> 
> “Yes,” he smiled down at her.  We will do it together...  Annnnd… step, step, toss…. See how easy it is?  Step, step, toss…  Yes, that is it!”
> 
> “Step, step toss…. I’m doing it, Ada!  Look!”
> 
> “Yes, you are, hênig.” Thranduil smiled down at her.  “I knew you could find a way.  Keep going…  yes…  Step, step, toss… say it with me…” 
> 
> They made it all the way to the dais at the entrance of the Great Hall, turned around and walked back, keeping up the rhythm the entire way. Esta remained at the little girl’s left side, with the flower wreath on her head, and her tail wagging.
> 
> “Very good!  We will do more tomorrow, and practice every day, yes?”  He looked around on the floor.  “Where did you get these bits of paper, Tithen Pen?”
> 
> “Ruvyn got me some, and helped me tear it up so I didn’t have to pretend," she told him.  " I thought it would help."
> 
> “I see. It was a good idea, but I think we should get this swept up, before Auntie Hil returns from her errands.  Ruvyn and I will help you, then I will rub your leg and your foot.  And then,” he booped her nose, “you must take a nap, all right?”
> 
> “Okay.”  Tilda smiled and nodded, then became serious. “Ada?”
> 
> “What is it?”
> 
> “You won’t tell anybody, will you?”
> 
> “Not if you do not wish it, but why would you not want them to know?”

The eavesdroppers behind the doorway looked at each other a bit sheepishly, but neither one moved.   

 

 

> “Everybody got upset, when I was sick.” 
> 
> “That was because we love you,” Thranduil stroked her cheek.  “We did not want to lose you.”
> 
> “But they treat me normal now, and if they knew, they’d get all sad again…”
> 
> “That is not your fault, Tilda.”
> 
> “But I made Da and everybody cry.  I felt bad.”
> 
> “You did not make anybody do anything.  It is what families do.  Let me ask you this: You worried when Da hurt his leg, yes?”
> 
> “Uh huh.  You got sick, too.  I worried a **lot.”**
> 
> “You were sad, and you cried?”
> 
> “A really lot.”
> 
> “So, you understand.” Thranduil answered, with a shrug.  “That is what happens people love each other, Tilda.  We get upset when they are hurt, or ill.  Nothing can change that, _Tithen_ _Pen_.
> 
> “Now, I will promise not to say anything, if **you** promise to **always tell someone** when your leg or your foot gets tired, or anything hurts.” He lifted her chin, and looked into her eyes.  “You are still recovering,Tilda,  and I know you are frustrated, but you **must** do this.  Do you promise?”
> 
> “Okay, Ada.” She reached up. “I love you.”
> 
> “I love you too, hênig.” He stooped down, and her tiny frame disappeared when he gathered her into his long arms, as he kissed the top of her head. “Go find Ruvyn, and bring a broom and dustpan…”

Bard and Percy looked at each other and tiptoed quietly back to their office.  Neither ever spoke about it.

When they were at supper that night, Bard noticed the daisies in Tilda’s hair were a little droopy, but she still looked cute.

“The flowers look nice, Beanie.”

“Thanks, Da.  I made it myself.”

“You did?”

 “I have to practice wearing it, so it doesn’t fall off.”

“That’s important.  You’re going to be a great Flower Girl, love.”

Bard and Percy noticed the looks between Tilda and her _Ada_ , but they smiled and said nothing.

 

***************

 

It had become part of Thranduil’s regular evening routine to take the dogs out for their evening walk with Tauriel.  Bard encouraged him to keep it up, as it gave him a chance for some one-on-one time with his eldest daughter. 

They both looked forward to it, and would sometimes walk for an hour or more, as they unwound from their busy day. Tauriel was opening up to him like never before, and he was thrilled.  His _Gwinïg_ was a bright young Elf, and he genuinely respected her ideas and opinions about many things, large and small.  He delighted in her intelligence and even her wicked sense of humor.

This evening, after the dogs got their exercise, Thranduil dropped them off with the children and said goodnight.

He quietly entered his own chambers…

…and was immediately swept off his feet.

“What are you doing?” he laughed, as he wrapped his arms around Bard’s neck.

“What does it look like?  I’m carrying you.  Be quiet and let me.”

His Bowman took him over toward the bed, but walked around it the windows, where there was a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor.

“What is this?”

“It’s a clear night, and I want to make love to you under the stars.”  Bard laid him down on the cushions and looked deep into his eyes.  “I want to show you how glad I am that a certain snooty-faced Elvenking decided he wanted me, as much as I wanted him.”  

He lowered his head and brushed his lips back and forth against Thranduil’s so softly it tickled.  “Do you remember our first kiss, love?”  Bard asked, as he caressed his cheek and looked deep into his eyes.

“How could I forget it?” he whispered.  “You turned to me so slowly, and put your hand on my face, like you are now…”

“And you put your hand on my chest and to feel my heart pounding…”

“Mine was pounding, too, _Meleth nîn_.  I could hardly believe you were looking at me like that….”

“I didn’t know what you would do,” Bard confessed.  “All I knew in that moment was that I needed, more than anything in the world, to kiss you.  I had to know what your lips tasted like, or I’d ache with regret for the rest of my life.”

 “I couldn’t stop looking into your eyes.”  The Elf told him.  “They are so warm and welcoming, and always makes me think of my forest, when it was alive and green and beautiful…. Your eyes make me feel safe.”

“And yours are pools of clear water, like the Long Lake on a smooth, summer day.  I wanted to dive into them, and never come up for air.  I still want to drown in them, Thranduil.”  Bard ran his thumb over Thranduil’s lips.  “You are so beautiful…  I said that to you.”

“I remember.  And I said you were beautiful, as well.”

Bard’s mouth hovered over his, as they whispered, but now the Bowman lowered his head, and enveloped Thranduil’s mouth in a soft, deep kiss.  The Elvenking sighed, lifted his hand and brushed Bard’s cheek with the back of his hand, as his mouth opened and began to kiss him back.

There was no urgency, no sudden flame of passion, just long, slow kisses, gentle loving touches, soft sighs, and looks of pure love.  It was _beautiful_.  The world drifted away, until the only thing in their universe was each other, surrounded by the silver light of the moon, and the stars.

Bard sat up and eased Thranduil’s robe, tunic and leggings off, kissing him wherever he exposed Thranduil’s pale smooth skin.

 “I still think about how you felt in my arms.  It was so right, like I had been waiting all my life for that moment, and never knew it.” Bard stroked Thranduil’s hair, and smiled.  “When you kissed me, all the aching and homesickness left me, because my heart found where it belonged.”

Thranduil took Bard’s face in his hands, and his eyes swam.  “Life began to flow into me, again.  Things I thought were long-dead, began to come alive once more.”  He  swallowed, and his voice was rough with emotion.  “You are a miracle, _Meleth nîn_.  I did not understand it then, but my heart _knew_ you.  It knew I was waiting for you, too.”

Bard closed his eyes, and leaned into Thranduil’s touch.  Then he opened them again, and looked down at the Elf with wonder in his eyes.

“Look at you…” he smiled.   “I don’t think I have ever seen you more beautiful.  I can see the stars reflected in your eyes and look how the moon lights up your face, and shines in your hair…”  He sighed, then swallowed hard, as his voice trembled.  “I’m amazed that I’m the one you want.  _I’m the one_ who gets to kiss you, to touch you…”  He ran his hands down the Elvenking’s chest and abdomen with light circles.  “I’m the one who has the privilege of holding you like this.  After all I’ve been through, here you are, and you’re for _me_ …”

Bard lowered his head and buried his face in the crook of Thranduil’s neck, and the Elvenking held him tight, because he felt the same way about his Bowman. 

“ _Ci veleth e-guil nîn, Bard_.” He whispered, and stroked the black curls.  “You are my forever.”

“And you are mine,” the Bowman answered. 

They held each other for many minutes, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude for the blessing of each other.  Their kisses resumed, and slowly grew more and more passionate, as Bard slipped out of his robe, and reached down to massage Thranduil’s cock, making it twitch with anticipation.

“Oh, Bard…”  he gasped. 

“Tell me what you want, love,” Bard nibbled on his earlobe, then traced the outside of his ear and began to suck on the pointed tip, causing Thranduil to let out a long, low whimper.  “I’ll do anything you want.”

 _“Ai, ma…   Ai…”_ he whined, as the Bowman’s tongue flicked back and forth rapidly over the tip of his ear.  Bard knew this made Thranduil helpless to resist anything, and he squirmed and writhed, as his cock grew harder and his balls began to ache. 

“I w-want you inside me,” he panted.  “Please, take me…”

Bard’s kiss this time was not languid, it was deep, hard and passionate, and Thranduil moaned into it. 

Bard broke the kiss, and smiled as he then took a silk handkerchief and tied it over the Elvenking’s eyes.

“What are you doing, _Meleth?”_

“Shhh….” Bard kissed his jaw, then whispered in his ear.  Tonight, I just want you to lay back and _feel_ how much I treasure you.”

And _oh,_ did he.  

Normally, he and Bard kept their eyes open during sex, but to close off his sight brought new and heightened delight to his other senses, and he gasped at the wonder of it, as he felt Bard’s fingers lightly touched him all over.

His breath caught, when he felt himself being taken in Bard’s warm, wet mouth, and his tongue teased under the tip in that sensitive spot that made his head spin.

Then he felt hands gently easing his legs up and apart, and a lubricated finger rubbed and toyed with his entrance, then slowly pushed its way in.

This was always uncomfortable at first, so Bard eased him, by stroking his stomach and palming his chest, running his thumb back and forth over his nipple.  Thranduil moaned and bit his lower lip as he felt the callouses on Bard’s work-roughened hands, tease him all the more

When Bard began to gently stroke his insides, over that miraculous bundle of nerves, a moan of praise fell from his lips.

 _“Ai, ma, Bard.  Gellon n'i iuithog i lebir gîn,”_ he whined.  _“Gi melin dae…”_

Bard teased him for many minutes, and Thranduil savored every second of it, but when Bard slowly entered him, he cried out, not just with pleasure, but with utter joy, for their coupling only brought home what they were speaking of earlier:  Bard had brought him back to life again - in some ways, more alive than he’d ever been before.  His Bowman must have felt the same, because he could hear Bard let out a sob, as the hard, thick cock slowly pushed in, until his entire length was inside of him. 

It might be physically true that Bard was enveloped in the warmth of Thranduil’s body, but he was enveloped in the warmth of a love so deep and tangible that it made him tremble.

“Kiss me,” the Elvenking pleaded.  “Take me and never let me go!”

I could never let you go,” Bard said roughly. “I will always, _always_ love you, Thranduil.”

Bard’s lips were upon him, and he opened his mouth to receive him, and return it with equal force, as they began to move together.

“I love you,” Bard moaned.  “I love how hot you are, inside,” he whispered, as he thrust harder and harder into him.

Thranduil widened his legs and moved his knees onto Bard’s arms, and the change in this angle ensured that his Bowman would brush his cock past his prostate with every thrust.  They both hissed and moaned at the sensation, and suddenly their lovemaking was no longer gentle, nor was it languid. 

As much as he loved looking into his Bowman’s warm eyes when they made love, _this_ was…. beyond anything he was expecting.  Every touch was like a spark, each thrust of Bard’s cock made him whimper with pleasure so that he could hardly catch his breath.

Tears escaped his closed eyes, as he sensed Bard, sensed how his body felt, as he thrust his powerful hips and drove his cock deep inside.  He felt Bard’s love washed over him, over them both like waves, and he tried to talk, but he couldn’t form words.  It was almost too much, but it couldn’t be, because Thranduil would never get enough of this marvel of a Man.

“I love you, too, Thranduil.  I love you so, so much.”

“Bard..” he sobbed, then he gasped.

 _Oh, there it was…_  

There was that amazing, tension flowing through his body, pooling in his groin that grew and built up until it was aching, _begging_ to explode from him…. His body froze, as every muscle tensed, ready to release.

Thranduil’s fingers dug hard into the flesh of his husband’s buttocks, and he hung on for dear life.  When Bard changed the angle of Thranduil’s hips, he bit down hard on Bard’s shoulder and screamed when the strokes against his prostate made his orgasm even more intense.

Was that even possible?

 _Oh, stars, yes…._  Thranduil somehow managed to take a breath and he cried out again, as hot stripes of liquid erupted.   He couldn’t help his cries; there was no restraint, no control, only his Bard, and the things he was bringing out in him.

His husband wasn’t far behind.  After a dozen more hard thrusts, Bard let out a loud, evocative grunt.  His back arched upwards and his hips snapped down hard, and every muscle in his body flexed, as he came inside the Elf.

 

After Bard removed his scarf, they held each other in silence for a long time, knowing words weren’t necessary.  They lay in the moonlight, and listened to the sounds of the breeze outside, and song of the crickets.

At long last Bard spoke.  “I know it would be romantic to stay here and sleep in the moonlight,” he said, as he nestled into Thranduil’s shoulder, “but I confess, after a month flat on my back in an uncomfortable bed, I love our new mattress almost as much as you.” He kissed Thranduil chest.

“I agree,” Thranduil snickered, and sat up.  “Come, _Meleth nîn.”_

They got up to wash, then crawled between the sheets of their bed, and Bard settled comfortably against his back.

“I do not know what I did to deserve such wonderful treatment.”  Thranduil kissed Bard’s hand, which was entwined with his own, and placed them over his heart.

“I’m just grateful, Thranduil.  Everything you do shows how much you love me, and our family.  I wanted to thank you, in some small way.”

 Thrandiul smiled into the darkness. “That was _not_ a small gesture, _Hervenn nîn.”_

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 20 th of August, 2942 T.A.**

Rhian was just finished setting the table when Ben came in from work. 

“I’m home, love!  I get to eat supper with my family, for once.”

“It’s about time,” she called out, “we almost forgot what you look like,”

“Story about that, bit it can’t be helped.” He came into the dining room, and kissed her cheek. “Hello, sweetheart!  Where’s my grandson?”

“Hi Da,” she answered.  “Darryn is –“

—not on the blanket where she had put him.

He was sitting at the end of the hall, in front of the door to her room.

“Look at you, lad!” Ben grinned with glee, and went to scoop him up.  “He’s creeping, now!”

Rhian’s face lit up.  “Aren’t you my clever boy!”  She came over to them, and kissed the baby’s cheek.

Little Darryn rewarded the attention for his spectacular feat, by grabbing Ben’s nose.

“Oooh!  Aye, that’s my honker you’re grabbing, there.” He said, as he sat down the table with the baby in his lap.  “There’ll be no keeping up with you, now.  Your poor Mam’s not going to get a thing done around here.”

“I was talking to Hannah, about getting a special crib made.  She says all the Mams used them in Laketown to keep the babies from falling in the water the minute they turned their backs.”

“You mean, like a pen for him to play in?”

“Aye. I need to be able to cook and clean, and I don’t want him to get near the fire if I’m moving the kettle around.  He could really get hurt.”

“I’ve seen them, before – you’re Mam had one for you, love.  I’ll see about getting one made right away.”

“Thanks, Da.”  Rhian set the meat pie down and served it up, along with the green beans and sliced tomatoes.  Once she was done, she put Darryn in between them in his high, wooden chair and they dug in to their dinner.   For him, she had prepared some mashed-up beans, along with some applesauce.

“How was your day, Da?”

“Too busy, but there’s nothing for it, love.  I’d still be there if Bard hadn’t put his foot down, and said we all had to leave early at least twice a week.”

“Sigrid told me that was Lord Thranduil’s idea.  He makes sure Lord Bard leaves on a regular schedule, and they don’t discuss work in the family rooms.”

“Good plan. Always done it that way, myself; Cristyn insisted on it, right from the start.  ‘When you come in the door,’ she’d tell me, ‘take off the day, and leave it with your hat.’  I’d go nuts if I didn’t.”

“I’m glad for it,” she smiled, “that’s what we’ll do in this house.  And don’t worry, about neglecting us, either.  This is important, and will slow down, eventually.”  She cut up a tender piece of meat into tiny pieces and gave Darryn some.  “Did you see Daeron, today?  How is he?”

“Seems fine.  Oh! That reminds me:  His last day is tomorrow, so we’re invited to a surprise supper for him, and Hilda made me promise we wouldn’t breathe a word.  They’re all leaving the next morning for the Wedding, and he’s going to stay, and go from there.”

“Last day?”  She was confused, and her stomach started to churn.  “What are you talking about?”

“About Daeron, of course.” Ben said, as he took a sip of water. “He’s leaving Dale.”

 ** _“What?”_** Rhian gasped.

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Beriel, Ambë!_ – (Quenya) Beriel, Up!

 _Ai, ma_ – Oh, yes

  _Ci veleth e-guil nîn, Bard_ – You are the love of my life, Bard

 _Ai, ma, Bard.  Gellon n'i iuithog i lebir gîn_ – I love it when you use your fingers

 _Gi melin dae_ – I love you very much (lit. “I love you greatly.”)

 _Hervenn nîn –_ my husband 

  


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhian confronts Daeron about what she's just heard...
> 
> ...and it doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me so far, all of you! You've been faithful not only for this story, but for the entire series, and I'm more grateful than you can know!

 

****

**City of Dale, 20 th of August, 2942 T.A.**

**_“What?”_** Rhian gasped.

“I’m sorry, Rhian.”  Ben took a bite of pie, and after swallowing it, he said, “I honestly though you knew.  He’s going on some assignment to where these other Elves live.  Lethl….  Looth...  I don’t know.  Anyway, they’re sending some of their folks here for a year, and Daeron and some Guardians will be going there.”

“For a year?”

“I thought I told you.” He winced.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.  Things are so crazy at work, and I hardly see you as it is…”

“No, Da; don’t blame yourself,” she patted his forearm.  You’ve been working your fingers to the bone.”  She reassured him.  “Like you said, he’s a soldier, and he has to follow orders.”

“Wasn’t an order.  Lord Thranduil asked him about it last month.”

“ _Asked_ him?  King Thranduil didn’t command him to go?” Then it registered.  “Wait; did you say, 'l _ast month?”'_

“Aye.  It’s a voluntary assignment, but here’s the kicker: The Lord and Lady requested Daeron by name! I hear she’s a mighty powerful Elf.  Much more than Thranduil, or even her husband.”

“But why would he agree with that, if he didn’t have to?” Rhian was thoroughly confused.  “They need him here!  He looks after Lady Tilda, and she still needs help, and all those people in the Healing House…  What about Lord Bard?”

“I guess that’s all taken care of.  Another Healer came from Thranduil’s Palace to take his place a while back, and Turamarth is going to be in charge of Lord Bard in the meantime.  It’s all set.”

“So, he _knew_ he was leaving?  All this time?” Rhian repeated again, still not believing what she was hearing.

“It’ll be fine, love.  This is Daeron we’re talking about.” Ben put his hand over hers.  “I’m sure he meant no offense, sweetheart.  He’s your friend.”

But Rhian couldn’t stop her head from spinning.  Daeron _knew_ , when he was with her in the Market that day.  He _knew_ when he came to the house and sat with her in the garden, and tried to help her feel better, and he _knew_ those evenings at the Castle with Sigrid. 

And he said nothing.

Her chest tightened, and her stomach began to churn… 

Darryn cry of outrage brought her out of her reverie.  He was protesting loudly at his dinner being interrupted.  Rhian turned back to her son, and looked at her Da.  They were her family and deserved her attention. 

After the meal was finished, and the supper dishes washed, they sat comfortably in the living room, as Ben enjoyed his pipe, and laughed at the baby’s antics.  Rhian got down on the rug and played with him, until it was time for his night-time feeding (with a bottle, now that he has been weaned), then put him to bed with a dry diaper, and his favorite blankie.

“Da?  Would you mind watching Darryn?  I won’t be long.”

“Sure thing.  If you’re going to see Daeron, I think he’ll be coming off duty at the Castle right about now.”

“Thanks, Da.”  She kissed his cheek.

Ben grabbed her hand and squeezed it.  “Are you all right, love?  I hope you’re not upset.” He gave her a worried look.

Rhian looked down at this dear man, and smiled. Her new father looked tired; he was working from sunrise to sunset, to get Dale up and running, and the last thing he needed was to be burdened with any more than he already was.

“I’m fine, Da.  I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding, and he probably just forgot, with how busy he is.  It’ll be fine.” She squeezed his hand. “I won’t be long.”

It was still light out, and the evening sun cast a beautiful orange glow on the buildings of Dale, but Rhian paid no attention.  With every step she took, her feelings of hurt, confusion and anger grew.  This couldn’t be right!  He wouldn’t do that to her and he especially wouldn’t do that to her son! 

Oh, gods…  The very thought of him just sneaking out of Darryn’s life made her blood boil!  He wasn’t going to even say goodbye to the innocent little boy who had done nothing but love adore him!

Why would he do that?  How could he?

Up ahead, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and she watched Daeron walk out.  His long, auburn hair shone in the setting sun, and blew in the breeze, as he nimbly trotted down the steps and turned away, toward his home.

“Daeron!”  She called out angrily.  “Daeron!”

The Elven Guard stopped and froze, but didn’t turn around. 

*******************

_Amarth faeg_ _…_

Ruvyn was on duty at the entrance of the Great Hall, and had just said goodbye to Daeron, as he walked through the open door out onto the dais, on the warm summer evening.

He absentmindedly watched him turned toward the center of the City, when he heard someone call out to him, and saw the look on Daeron’s face.

_Ai, gorgor!_

Quickly he whispered orders in Sindarin to the other guard.  “Get inside and close these doors.  Say nothing.”

“But why?” The other Guard asked. “Are we not supposed to –“

“You will do as your told, because I outrank you.  Now, do it!”

The Elves moved silently, and with a minimum of noise, the deed was done, and the Guards were closed inside.

“Get King Thranduil,” Ruvyn ordered.  “Tell him it is not an emergency, but his presence is needed at the entrance to the Great Hall right away.  Then stay by the back doors, and make sure we are not disturbed.  Everything you have seen and heard is under Seal, is that understood?”

“Yes sir.” The soldier saluted and did as he was told, and within seconds Lord Thranduil hurried out.

“What is the problem, out here, Ruvyn?” Thranduil lowered his tone when Ruvyn put his finger to his lips.

“We have a personal situation I think you should be aware of, My Lord, and I need your instructions.” The Lieutenant looked stricken.  “I would _never_ do this, My Lord, but it involves Daeron.”  Quickly he explained what he saw.

“I see.  You were right to act.  Are they outside now?”

“Yes, My Lord, and Lady Rhian is…  it is not going well.”

Thranduil sighed, ordered the Guard to remain, then went back into his living quarters to change.

 

***************

 

As soon as a Daeron heard Rhian’s tone of voice, he froze, and his eyes closed in consternation. 

She had found out, if her angry footsteps were any indication, and he had been dreading this. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way!  The _last_ thing in the world Daeron wanted to do was hurt her.  He didn’t mean to keep anything from her, but he’d been wracking his brains for weeks for something to say.  He’d avoided the subject all together, because he honestly didn’t trust himself, between what he _wanted_ to say, and what was best, and his anxiety of late had been overwhelming. 

He could hardly eat, and he knew Turamarth noticed the dark circles under his eyes.  He hated to cause his cousin any concern – he was busy trying to get Bowen back on his feet, and of course, nothing could be said in front of the boy – but the days leading up to his departure were filled with increasing anxiety.  Every cell in his body was begging him to stay, telling him not to separate from her.  He was exhausted from tossing and turning at night, to try to come up with the right words, but none came to his mind, that didn’t end with him dropping to his knees and spilling the contents of his heart, and begging her to love him.

_Ai Belain, nesto nín..._

“Turn around and look at me!  Look at me!”

The Elf took a deep breath, schooled his face into an emotionless mask, and turned to face her.

“I’ve heard some interesting news, Daeron,” she crossed her arms angrily.  “Da and I were having dinner, and he started talking about your new job.” Her voice was sarcastic, “Naturally Da assumed I knew all about it, because _of course,_ you would have told me.”  She shook her head. “Imagine Ben’s surprise when he realized _I didn’t know a thing about it!”_

Daeron’s eyes closed, and he said nothing.

 “So,” she continued in the same tone, “like an idiot, I decided to come and talk to you, because of course that _couldn’t be right._   You’d _never_ do something like that without saying something, but from the look on your face, I can see I _really am_ an idiot, aren’t I?”  her eyes were wide with disbelief.

“Rhian, you are not –“

 _“How dare you!”_ she said, through gritted teeth.  “You knew, _all this time_ you were going to leave and you didn’t think I deserve to know?”

“I understand –“

“NO!  **_You don’t understand!_**   You don’t have the _foggiest idea_ how stupid I feel!  Everybody knew about this, but me!  You bastard!  _You bastard!”_

“It’s not like that,” he began.  “Please, _Hind Calen –“_

“Don’t call me that! It’s _exactly_ like that!  YOU,” she jabbed her finger in his chest, “give me all this _bullshit_ about how I can depend on you, how you’ll _always_ be there for me, and you do _this?_  I was just beginning to think I was worth something, because someone as kind and as good as _you_ believed in me!  You convinced me to believe in myself, and it was _all a lie!”_

“No!  That is not true!”

“It is true!  You **_knew_** you were leaving, and you were going to be gone for an entire year!  You had _all these chances_ to talk to me about it, but you didn’t think I was a good enough friend to bother tell me?” Her face was twisted with fury and hurt.  “You’re a _liar!_   The worst kind of liar Daeron!” Her eyes filled and spilled over.  “You’re just like them!”

“Who do you mean?”

“You know who.” She shook her head and laughed.

“Rhian!” Daeron flinched, as if he’d been slapped. “How could you _say_ that?”

“Because it’s true!  I trusted _them_ , and look where it got me?  They took _everything away_ from me…  They took my insides and chewed them up and spit them out like I was nothing, _because I was nothing to them!_  My son and I nearly died, because _I believed_ what they thought about me!”

Daeron couldn’t believe what she was saying. “Rhian, please, I never m –“

“Shut up! You had plenty of chances to open your mouth. **_I’m_** doing the talking now!”  She angrily wiped her eyes, with shaking hands.  “I _never_ thought I’d say this in a thousand years, Daeron, but you,” she pointed at his chest, “are worse!

“Garth and Phylip were horrible, but at least they didn’t hide who they were to me.  _They never pretended to my face, like you did!_  My dad didn’t give a fiddler’s fuck about me, and he didn’t care who knew it.  Garth might have acted different to in public, but even when he was raping me and beating the living shit out of me, I knew it wasn’t an act!  He wasn’t PRETENDING!” 

 _“Daro! Law!”_ he cried in Sindarin, though he didn’t realize it. _“Gin_ _atho_ _iallon, daro_ _!_ _”_

She was practically sobbing the words out.  “Everybody in Laketown knew he was an arse and a mean drunk, but at least he didn’t pretend with me!  It was my own fault I accepted his abuse, and that’s on me, but I didn’t know any better then.”

She huffed out a sardonic laugh, “I was ignorant to think I know better now.  I don’t know anything, really.”

“No –“  Daeron’s eyes filled, and he shook his head. “It is not true!”

But you.” Her lip curled, and she wiped her eyes.  “Are so much worse than Phylip or Garth could ever be.  You had EVERBODY fooled, didn’t you?  _Everywhere_ you go, you’re this _big hero_ , and I actually began to have faith in you, _when nobody else in this world could get near me!!_   YOU insinuated yourself into my life and you kept coming to visit and MADE me trust you! 

“How could you?  How could you do that?” her voice broke, and she started to cry.  “Over and over, you convinced me to depend on you and you were just going to _fucking disappear_ without a word?”

“No!  It was not like that!  I l–“ Daeron stopped, and closed his mouth and said nothing more, but his face grew pale with shame.

Then Rhian’s tears stopped, and her voice lowered in fury.  “All that was bad enough, and yes, you’ve hurt me.  But let me ask you: what did _my son_ ever do to you, besides love you like a father?  He lights up every time you’re near him!  You were going to leave Darryn without saying a word, you _lying bastard!_ ” 

Her teeth clenched with a fury he’d never seen in her, and suspected she didn’t even know she possessed.  “It’s one thing to kick _me_ in the guts, but _you_ were going to turn your back on an innocent child, who _you claim_ , you love like a son.  **_A child I named after you!”_**

The Elf swallowed, and clapped his hand over his mouth.  He couldn’t even talk anymore.

“Daeron, I feel like slapping you for hurting me.  I feel like stabbing you until you bleed out in front of me, for hurting my son. But I won’t.  _I won’t_ be like Phylip, or Garth, and I won’t be like _you_ , either.  I will not allow someone hurt me like that, ever again.”

She stepped up to him so that her face was mere inches away.  “I’m going to give you the honesty and courtesy you never gave me, Daeron.”

“What do you mean?” His breath caught, as he looked into her eyes.

“I’m not going to tell Da how angry I am, but _only_ because he’s so overworked he can hardly see straight.  The last thing he needs, is to worry about me.  Besides, you’re only here for two more days, so after that, we won’t be an inconvenience to you.

“But as far as I’m concerned, you can stay wherever it is you’re going, because I don’t want to see you, or speak to you ever again!  Stay away from me!”

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Daeron put his arms around his middle and doubled over.  He couldn’t breathe.  Rhian’s words had kicked him so hard, his lungs might never take air again. 

His chest felt like it was going to burst, but he just couldn’t get them to work.  He put his hands over his mouth and tried to concentrate, and relax, but it was only a half-hearted effort, because he didn’t want to breathe anymore.  He didn’t really want to do anything anymore; what was the point?

He stumbled over to the steps, sat down and buried his head in his arms, listening to roar in his ears as his heart broke.

 

_“Ci vaer, Daeron?”_

He raised his head, and looked up in mortification at the Elvenking, who was standing in front of him, dressed in his leather armor.  In one of his hands, he carried riding gloves, and in the other, a leather satchel.

 _Ai gorgor…_  He closed his eyes in horror, and he groaned.  _Everyone_ in the Great Hall must have heard… could this get any worse?

“Did everyone witness that, My Lord? I am sorry –“

“‘Everyone?’  Who is ‘everyone?’”   The Elvenking looked around, and up and the closed doors of the Great Hall.  “There is none here but us, Lieutenant.  It is a beautiful evening, the weather is clear, and we have a pleasant cool breeze.” Thranduil said.  “I feel like a taking a ride.  You will accompany me.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Daeron tried to get up, but he stumbled, so his King oh-so casually grabbed his arm, and together, they walked to the stables.

 _Aegis_ and _Naurmôr_ were old friends, and they swished their tails and tossed their heads in excitement, as the King and his Lieutenant quickly saddled them, and led them out of the barn.  After Thranduil put his satchel in his saddle bag, mounted up and made their way out of the West Gate of Dale, and headed toward the nearby forest.

“It is kind of you to do this, My Lord.”

“Do what?” Thranduil shrugged.  “You are my Guard, if only for three more days, and I find I am in need of some time among the trees.  _Naurmôr_ needs exercise; we make a long journey soon, and I want to prevent stiffness and injury.”

They rode for a few miles until they reached a copse of trees, then meandered among them at a leisurely pace.  The Elvenking raised his face to the sky and inhaled deeply.  “I must come here more often, I think.  I have spent so many years with a sick forest, I have forgotten how exhilarating it feels to be in a healthy one.  Hmmm….” He opened his eyes and asked him.  “Did your parents ever talk to you about _Eryn_ _Galen_ , when it was beautiful, and lush and green?” he asked the Lieutenant.  “Before it was called Mirkwood?”

“I grew up with many stories of it.  My parents, and my Aunt and Uncle spend many evenings telling tales to Turamarth and I.”

“I have prayed for centuries that I will one day see it restored, the way it was when your father, Commander Feren, and I used to play in it as children.  As much as it pains me to lose all that territory in the South, our people still have some of the forest to live in, thanks to you.  I am immensely proud of all my Guardians, and my Army, Daeron.  If it weren’t for your diligence, we would not even have that.”

“It is no duty, My Lord.  It is our calling to protect the forest.  Silvans are meant to live among the trees.  I want to help them.”

“Yet so much of my Kingdom is gone,” Thranduil mused.  “Maybe it has truly been lost.”

“No, My Lord.”  Daeron looked up at the leaves of the trees, and heard the wind speak in soothing tones.

“But it looks dead; it is dark and dank and frightening.  I am sure the Wardens from Lothlórien will see it, and be convinced it is beyond all hope.” The King shook his head sadly. “Perhaps they would be right.”

“They would be mistaken!  The Wardens do not understand, that is all.”

“And why would they?  _Their_ home is protected by the Lady of the Golden Wood, who has powers beyond anything even I could accomplish.  All they know is a heathy forest like this,” he gestured at their surroundings. 

“But they are Silvans – do they not feel the trees like we do?”

 Thranduil tilted his head and looked at him, thoughtfully. “What will you say to them, when they look at Mirkwood and hear nothing from the trees?  Will they not decide the forest has died?”

“Of course, I will tell them the truth; the forest is sleeping, because Rhadagast the Brown puts the trees and plants to sleep, so they do not suffer, while we wait.”

“‘Wait for what?’ they will surely ask…”

“For the day evil will be destroyed, and our home could be brought back to life.” Daeron said earnestly.  “Our homeland was once very beautiful, and it could be again.” 

Thranduil sighed.  “The Woodland Realm is infested now:  the spiders, the Orcs, even the smell of evil that has permeated the land now.  It seems impossible.” The Elvenking shook his head ruefully.   “Perhaps we are lying to ourselves, Daeron, merely holding on to a fool’s hope.”

“It is not a fool’s hope, My Lord!” The Lieutenant said with the same surety and passion he’d felt all his life for the land he came from.  “This dream, that the Greenwood could be alive and healthy again is _why_ we wait, why we fight so diligently to protect it, even now that it is sick!  _It_ _is why we go out there,_ day after day; year after year after year.  We see beyond what our eyes and ears tell us, and have faith.” 

Daeron’s voice was earnest.  “I believe with _all my heart,_ that the time _will_ come, when everything will fall into place, and Sauron _will_ be defeated once and for all!  I want to be at My King’s side when that time comes, when all our labors will be fulfilled.”

His King narrowed his eyes, regarded him closely.  “Daeron, you are telling me not to give up?  To pay no attention to how bad things appear now, for all may not be lost?”

“Never lose sight of the vision you have for what things could be.” Daeron encouraged him.  “Fight as hard as you can to make this dream come true, or you will never forgive yourself.”

“Well, _Mellon nîn,”_ Thranduil grinned, _“_ I can see you need no pearls of wisdom from me.  Perhaps my advice to you would simply be to follow your own advice.”

Daeron paused for a moment, then shook his head and laughed to himself.  He’d fallen right into that one, and bless Thranduil a thousand times for it.

Thranduil stopped   _Naurmôr_ , and looked up at the wide, ancient tree in front of them.  “Ah.  This tree will do nicely - what do you think?”

The Elvenking had taken them to Daeron’s favorite Oak tree. 

“How did you know, My Lord?” The Guard’s eyes widened in surprise.

“It is my business to know.  I also know you should have a chance to spend time with it, before you leave.”  The King dismounted, and took the satchel from his saddle bag.  “I am sure you have not had supper yet, and I am in the mood for a picnic in the trees.”  Thranduil hung the satchel his shoulder and jumped high into the air, grabbed a limb and gracefully swung himself.  In almost an instant he disappeared among the leaves and branches.

He dismounted, and quickly followed his friend and liege up the tree.

Once they were comfortable, Thranduil opened his satchel and produced the meal, and poured wine from the large skin into two cups.  Daeron ate, and the Elvenking snacked  in comfortable silence. 

“Thank you, Thranduil.”

“Me?  It was you who gave encouragement and excellent advice.” He filled their cups again.  “Anyway, I have been hoping to have the chance to tell you about the land you will be visiting.  Has  anyone told ever told you what Lothlórien is like?”

“No, My Lord.”

“You will love it.  There are _Mallorn_ trees, the likes of which does not exist outside their lands.  You will be astounded at their size.  My cousin, Lord Celeborn – did I ever tell you he is my distant kin?”

“No, you did not.”

Thranduil smiled.  “Now, that _is_ a story.  He is much older than even my father, and they are also related to King Thingol.  My parents took me to the Golden Wood when I was a child, and when I first met Celeborn, I could not believe he was so tall..."

 

Daeron listened to Thranduil’s stories long after the sun went down, with increasing interest.  The King regaled him with tales of the land he would be staying in, of their homes, or _flets_ high in the trees, and everything Thranduil could remember about their customs and traditions.  

The weight around the Guard’s heart lightened just a little bit, as he listened to Thranduil’s words, and he began to look forward to this experience.  He _wanted_ to see this wondrous place and meet this extraordinary Queen of the Elves, the most powerful in all of Middle Earth.  Maybe Turamarth was right.  Maybe his destiny was waiting for him in the Land of the Golden Wood.

The King and the Guardian sat and talked until the early hours of the morning…

...and not once did his King ask him what happened in the courtyard.  

 

****************

 

**City of Dale, Just before dawn, 21 st of August, 2942 T.A.**

“What are you doing in the dark, _Gwador?”_

Turamarth was tying his robe, as he came out of his room, to find Daeron, fully clothed, sitting in dark.

“I accompanied Lord Thranduil on a ride in the woods last evening.”

“That must have been some ride.  Have you slept at all?”

“No.”

Turamarth took in the paleness of his cousin’s face, and his tired, defeated posture.  “When did you get back?”

“Three hours ago.  He spoke at great length about Lothlórien, and the Lord and Lady.  It sounds an interesting place, very different from the Woodland Realm – at least the way it is now.  I think,” he exhaled, “I think living in healthy forest will be good for me.”

“More important, _your_ gifts and your experience will help them.  I know you, cousin:  you need to be useful, to feel like you are contributing, no matter where you are.”

“I truly believe this could benefit the future, and I want to help…” Daeron laughed ruefully, and looked into his wineglass.  “I was accused of wanting to be seen as a ‘hero,’ to everyone.  That it was an arrogant façade to soothe my ego.”

Turamarth was shocked.  “Who would say such things?”

“Rhian.”

“That cannot possibly be true!  How could you refuse, when the Lady asked for you by name? She knows why this assignment is important!”

“Actually,” He put his face in his hand.  “She did not.” He mumbled.

“Of course you are not going to tell her _everything_ , but surely when you told her –“ Turamarth’s heart sank.  “You did _not_ tell her.  Oh, _Gwador_ …. Why?”

“It does not matter, anymore; she hates me.” Daeron sighed.  “It is over.  Maybe it is easier that way.”

Turamarth studied him carefully.  “Easier for whom?”

“I thought it would be easier to wait to tell her right before I left…”

“Again, easier for _whom?”_

Daeron looked at him, then at his drink, and said in a small voice.  “I told myself it would be easier for her if I waited until the last minute.  I did not want to admit the truth.”

“Which is what?”

“I was only thinking of myself.”

“Yes, you were.” The Elf sat down on the couch beside him.  “But I think I understand why.  Could you speak with her, and try to make it right?”

“And say _what?”_ Daeron’s snapped, louder than he meant to, then gave a worried look toward the spare room. “I am sorry.” 

“Do not be.  Bowen and Beriel are on an overnight visit with his family. If it goes well, he will go back permanently.” Turamarth assured him. “Go on.””

“I avoided her because I did not know what to say, and I was afraid, Tur.  I have barely hung on, and the minutes seem like hours now.  I cannot sleep…” he looked up at the ceiling and tried to blink away the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“You are exhausted, _Gwador._ I am sorry I have not noticed before now.”

“You have been working, and mentoring Bowen.  You should not be worried for me.”

“Regardless, I am going to see about a sleeping spell tonight.  You cannot go on like this.”

Daeron didn’t argue.

“Was Rhian really that upset?”

“Why should she not be?  She sees it as a betrayal; as if I never cared about her.  And when she accused me of not caring about Darryn…” he could hold the tears back no longer.  “She thinks I only _pretended_ to love him, that I only _pretended_ to be her friend…  Rhian said I was worse than her husband, and her birth father, because I’ve lied to her.  I –“

“I am so sorry, Daeron.” Turamarth took the cup out of his cousin’s hand, and set it on the table, then sat down beside him.  “She said terrible things, _Gwador,_ but maybe that was because she has been so hurt in the past.  Think of all the betrayals she has suffered, _Mellon._ Rhian is stronger now, but that does not mean she unscarred.  What did you say?”

“I did not have a chance to speak.  She was too angry.”

“Give her time to calm down, and sort things out.  Perhaps she will seek you out.”

“I leave the day after tomorrow.” Daeron sighed.  “Maybe it is selfish, but even if she wants to talk to me, I am not sure I am up to it.” He ran his hand over his face. “I will miss her, and the thought of not seeing Darryn…” His voice broke, and he couldn’t continue.

“I will write as often as possible, and tell you everything, _Mellon_.  You will have more news from here than you will know what to do with.”  Turamarth patted him on the back. “You have a few hours before you report for duty.  Try to get a little sleep, if you can.”

“I will.  Thank you.”

“I am your best friend, _Gwador._ Thanks are not needed. Now,” he got up from the couch, and put his hands on his hips.  “Have you finished packing?  Your trunks are supposed to be picked up tomorrow afternoon.”

“No.” Daeron admitted.

 _“Ai,_ that is typical.  You always wait until the last minute.” Turamarth chuckled. “Never mind; I will do it.  You are terrible at it anyway - haphazard and messy, just like your room.” He grinned.  “I feel sorry for your roommate in the Golden Wood; what are you going to do, without me to clean up after you?”

Daeron couldn’t help but laugh. “I will be living high in the trees, so I can just toss the mess over the balcony.” He also stood, then grabbed Turamarth suddenly, and embraced him.

“I will miss you, _Mellon nîn,”_ he whispered. “What will I do without you to hold me up, like you have always done?”

“I will _always_ be your biggest supporter, and your closest friend.” Turamarth returned his hug.  “Think about all the adventures we have shared, of all the times we have rescued each other.  Have I ever let you fall? Ever?”

“No.”

“And I won’t.  You do not need me to stand next to you, to know the words I would say.  Yet those words will be every bit as true as if I were.  I have always known my life would be spent helping you fulfill the role the Valar wants for you.  You are an Elf with rare gifts, _Gwador,_ and everyone who knows you can see how special you are.”

Yet Daeron doubted himself.  “Maybe Rhian is right, Tur.  Perhaps I enjoy being the hero.”

“What of it?” Turamarth shrugged.  “You do not do these things to seek accolades or attention, but this is who you _are_ , Daeron. Is it wrong to take pleasure in saving lives, in bringing new life into this world?”

Daeron smiled.  “I am grateful, Tur.  You have always supported me…  I worry that you do not get the credit you deserve.”

“I have never enjoyed the spotlight myself, but I do enjoy basking in yours. I am to you, what Lord Galion is to the King, and I take great pride in it.  Do you remember what I told you, after Sellwen died? ‘Lean on me, until you are strong once more.’  That is _my_ role, _Mellon nîn,_ and it always will be.”

Turamarth stepped back.  “Now get your _hach_ to bed, and get little sleep.  You look terrible.”

After his cousin went to his room and shut the door, Turamarth cleared the glasses, and put them away, before going back to bed himself.  As he passed Daeron’s room, he wasn’t surprised to hear sounds of soft weeping.

Tur sighed, and prayed earnestly for these next few days to pass quickly.  Daeron had been looking and feeling terrible, and he was afraid he would end up in the same condition he had been when Sellwen died. 

He’d meant it, when he told Daeron to lean on him.  That was his calling; Tur supported his gifted cousin, his best friend, until he could stand on his own again.

And while Daeron was away, he would send up prayers for his well-being, write him copious letters, and watch over the young mother and child he loved.

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Amarth faeg_ \- Holy shit (lit. “evil fate”)

 _Ai Belain, nesto nín_ – Oh Valar, help me.

 _Daro! Law!_ – Stop! It is not true!

Gin atho iallon, daro! – Please, I beg you, stop!

 _Ci vaer, Daeron?_ – Are you all right, Daeron?  (lit. “Do you feel well, Daeron?”)

 _Tirith-dolan i Eryn Galen –_ Guardian of the Woodland Realm

 _Hach_ \- Arse

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhian suffers terrible nightmares, from her upset, but thankfully, Hannah is there to smooth the waters.  Daeron says goodbye to all his friends, especially baby Darryn, which threatens to break his heart.  He tells himself it will be easier to leave Dale if Rhian stays away…
> 
> Will it?

 

“The heart is stubborn. It holds onto love despite what sense and emotion tells it. And it is often, in the battle of those three, the most brilliant of all.”   
― [ **Alessandra Torre**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6452845.Alessandra_Torre)

**Early hours of the morning, City of Dale, 21 st of August, 2942 T.A.**

 “Rhian?  Wake up, love!”

She sat up with a scream, and the nightmare slowly floated away, and here she was, in her own room, with her very worried Da hovering over her.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” Ben sat on the edge of the bed facing her.  “You’re perfectly safe at home. Nobody’s gonna hurt you here.  You’re safe, sweetheart.”

“I’m awake.” Rhian groggily wiped her eyes. 

“Are you all right?” Ben sat on the edge of the bed facing her.  “Nightmares again?”

She nodded her head. “Did I scream?”

“I’m afraid so, Rhian.” Her Da was worried. “Can I take your hand?” Ben knew that Rhian was sometimes sensitive to being touched after a bad dream.

She nodded and took his hand.  “I’m all right now; don’t worry.”

“Oh, can’t help that, love; it’s what a Da does.  Do you want to talk about it?”

Just then a cry was heard from the crib in Darryn’s room.  “Oh, no…”  Rhian made to get up.

“Stay.  I’ll bring him to you.” Ben got up and, after changing the baby, brought him to sit in Rhian’s lap.  “You just cuddle your _babinod_ , and I’ll get you something to drink.”

Ben returned with a large glass of water, and a small glass of whiskey. “Here you go; good for what ails you.  I know you like sweet wine, but we’re out.  Drink up.”

Just then, Floyd their huge orange cat jumped on the bed, settled next to her hip, and began to purr. Rhian began to stroke his back, absently, and she began to calm down a little.

“There now; you’ve got your pal to look after you.”  Ben smiled. 

It was true.  Since Rhian came to live with Ben, the cat was devoted to her.  He was constantly rubbing against her ankles, lounging in her lap (when Darryn wasn’t in it) or biting on her knitting needles, as she worked.  This last trick of his caused no end of mischief, as he especially like to pull them right out of her hands, leaving her to hold a handful of dropped stitches.  And if Floyd believed he wasn’t getting enough attention from his mistress, Rhian would wake up in the morning to find her yarn unwound in a trail all over the house.  Another favorite trick was sit beside her and try to steal the pen out of her hand while she was studying and practicing her penmanship.

“Da, you need to get back to bed.  I’ll be fine.  Hannah said this is normal, and I’ve got Darryn and Floyd to keep me company.  You need your rest.”

“Fine, but first thing tomorrow, I’m going to send Hannah to see you.” 

“Thanks, Da.”

“Sing Darryn back to sleep, and he’ll keep the bad dreams away.”  After kissing her cheek, Ben tucked her in and went back to his bedroom. 

Rhian sighed, and sang, but she didn’t sleep any more that night.

 

 

It was almost noon before Rhian heard a knock on the door.

“Thanks for coming, Hannah,” Rhian opened the door to let the midwife in. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come right away; I’ve got a new Mam at the Healing House that needed seeing to.” She gladly accepted the cup of tea Rhian offered.  “Oh, that’ll hit the spot, pet…” After she took a sip, Hannah asked.  “Where’s Darryn?”

“He’s sleeping.  We were up last night, so I think he’ll be down for a bit.”

“So…  What happened?  Your Da said you had some nightmares last night.  Do you want to talk about it?”

“Oh, it was the usual: always Garth doing…what he did, and Phylip standing and watching, laughing at me.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve had those.  Did something happen?”

Rhian’s lip quivered as she nodded her head. 

“What, love?  Surely it can’t be that bad.”

“But it is, and I don’t what to do!”  The girl burst into tears, and instantly Hannah was on the couch beside her holding her as she cried.  “Daeron’s leaving, and everybody knew about it but me!  Did you know?”

“Well yes, a couple of weeks ago, but –“

“Why didn’t you tell me?  Why didn’t _anybody_ tell me?”

“I only see you every couple of weeks, love, so I haven’t had a chance to talk with you about it.  You mean, he didn’t tell you?”

“NO!” She cried.  “He didn’t!

“Uh oh…” Hannah mumbled.  “What happened?”

“I confronted him, because I thought it was a mistake, but it’s true!  He made all these promises, how he was my friend, and he’d always be there for me….  He didn’t mean any of it!”  Rhian’s heart began to pound, and her breaths became shallow.  “I hate him!”  Then she burst into tears.  “I can’t take it, Hannah, I really can’t…”

Hannah handed her napkin to Rhian, to wipe her eyes.  “Let’s get it out in the open, so we can sort it, all right?  Start at the beginning and tell me everything…”

 

***************

 

**Evening, 22 nd of August, 2942 T.A. **

“Surprise!”  They all yelled, as Daeron followed Turamarth into the Great Hall.  Hilda dashed around the crowd, and enveloped him in a huge hug, and dragged him inside.

“Come on, love; you didn’t think we’d let you go traipsing all over the countryside without giving you proper send-off, do you?”  She kissed his cheek and put her arm through his. “Come on,” She led him toward the back, where several tables had been decorated and laden with food. 

Tilda came up wrapped her arms around his knees, and grinned up at him. 

“It’s a party for you, Daeron!”

“I see that, _hênig,”_ he smiled at mussed her hair.  “Did you help Lady Hilda put it together?”

“Uh huh.  She wouldn’t let anybody tell.”

“I can believe that.” He looked at his cousin. “Did you know about this?”

Turamarth was the picture of innocence, as he threw his hands up.  “Me?” Then he grinned.  “I would not dream of refusing Lady Hilda anything, would you?”

Daeron looked around, at all his friends. The Kings and their family were there, of course, Ermon and his wife, Elénaril, along with others who worked at the Healing House had also come.  Several his friends from the Barracks were there, as well as Dwalin, Bofur, many others from the Original Company.  Several of his patients and acquaintances from Dale had also wanted to say goodbye.

Anguish over leaving all these friends  overwhelmed him, and when asked to give a speech, he could not.  He simply smiled and croaked, “I… do not have the words, _Mellyn nîn,_ except to say thank you,” he placed his hand over his heart.  “I am touched.”

Bard came over and clasped his forearm.  “It won’t be the same around here without you.”

“Thank you, My Lord.  It has been an honor to serve you and your family.”

“I remember when we first met, when you were ‘My Lord-ing’ me all over the place just to annoy me,” Bard laughed.  “You’ve been a good friend, Daeron, not just to me, not just to my family, but to all of Dale.  I hope,” he said, seriously, “I’ve lived up to the legacy of my forefathers, in your eyes.  I would consider that it an honor if you thought so.”

“You have, and more, Lord Bard.” Daeron graced him with a formal salute.  “The honor is mine.”

“On a personal note,” the King of Dale’s voice lowered, and he raised his glass. “I pray you find what you’re looking for, and that you come back, soon.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

They both turned toward the big doors, as others called out a greeting to the newcomers.  Hannah had come, along with Old Ben, and he was carrying baby Darryn.

A low sound emanated from the Elf’s throat at the sight of the child, and he felt Bard’s reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It’ll be all right, lad.”

He was desperate to see the little boy, but what if Ben was angry?  What would Hannah say? Surely…

“You didn’t think we’d let you miss a chance to see your namesake, do you?” The City Planner came over with a wide grin. “I’m sorry Rhian couldn’t make it, son.  She’s under the weather, so I told her I’d bring him, so she could get some rest.”

Bard met his eyes, then asked Ben, “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

 “Oh, she said she’s feeling a bit achy, and has a headache.” Ben said lightly.  “She said she’s afraid it might be a summer cold coming on, and didn’t want to take a chance around Tilda.”

“That… was considerate of her.”  Daeron let out a sigh of relief. The man didn’t seem to be aware of what happened in the Courtyard, praise the Valar, and though Hannah’s face was inscrutable, she seemed friendly.

“Make sure she gets seen tomorrow,” Bard told Ben.  “If you’ll excuse me folks, I need to mingle.  Apparently, Kings are required to do that.” And with a wink he was off.

The baby cooed, reached for Daeron, and Ben happily placed the little boy in his arms.  “You’re the one he came to see, so here you go.”  The man grinned.  “The spread looks great, and I’m hungry!”

He left to go eat, and Hannah took his arm. 

“Come on,” and led him over to a table and arranged Darryn’s things, then sat beside him.  “I can’t tell you how much I’m going to miss you, love.  We made a good team, don’t we?”

“We will again, I am sure.”

“Of course, we will!  You think I’m going to let you leave us for good?  Ha!” She huffed.  “We’re a pair, you and me.  I hate seeing you go, but I know why you have to.”

Daeron felt the blood leave his face. “You do?”

“Of course, I do!  Show those Wardens how we do things in Dale.  If those Elves know so little about Men, somebody’s got to set them straight.  And you go, and learn all you can, and teach them everything you know from working here.”

An involuntary sigh of relief left the Guard.  “It truly is an amazing opportunity, Hannah.  I am honored to be asked.”

“And by the Lady herself, no less?” She smiled and patted his cheek. “I’ll bet your Mam and Da are bursting their buttons with pride.”

“They are.” He looked over to see Tur, Ruvyn and Ivran laughing and gesticulating wildly with the boys, and even Bowen was smiling, as he stood with Anna and Daffyd.  Bowen was holding his baby sister, and seemed to be doing a bit better, as he listened to Bain and Rhys’s animating conversation.

Thangon and Beriel were lounging by the fire pit as the smaller children crawled all over them. Alis was stroking Beriel’s head (and sneaking her the vegetables from her plate), and Dafina was laying against Thangon, using him as a pillow and giggling.

The Elf looked around him fondly, and his throat tightened, as a wave of sentiment washed over him..  These people had formed a wonderful, supportive family, and he would miss them all…

 _“Naeg!”_ Daeron yelped.  Darryn was tired of him looking around and grabbed a big handful of hair and yanked.  “I am sorry, _Ionnauth nîn!_ How could I neglect you?”

The child gurgled and kicked, as Daeron held him up in the air.  Darryn’s eyes had changed to a beautiful deep blue.  He still looked just like his mother, but the little boy’s personality was very much his own, and if Daeron thought he couldn’t love the child any more than he already did, he was wrong.

He held the child to him, and buried his nose in the scent of his sweet hair.  “You will be walking soon, and I will miss it,” he murmured into his neck. “I will not see your first steps, your first words…”

“Here’s something you don’t have to miss.” Hannah spread his blanket on the floor and took the baby from him.  “Go on, Darryn, show him what you can do!”

The baby sat up and considered his surroundings for a moment, then got down on all fours and quickly began to crawl away.

 _“Elo! Mae garnen, Ionneg vell!”_ Daeron cried out with joy.  “Look at you!”

Darryn sat up and grinned at him, and waved his arms around.

“Yes, you are a talented boy!” The Elf reached down to pick him back up and kissed his cheeks. “Such a marvel, you are!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you hear all about him.” Hannah said quietly.  “You’ll won’t miss a thing, if I can help it.”

“Thank you, Hannah.” He took her hand and squeezed it.  “I will miss you, too.” His breath caught. “You are a wonderful colleague, and an excellent friend.”

“Oh, you…” She got teary, then laughed.  “Pay no attention to me; I love a good cry.  Now go!” She pushed him. “This is _your_ party, so take your namesake, and go have some fun!”

So, he did.  He spent the evening with baby Darryn in his arms, and enjoyed the time with his friends, as much as he could.  Eventually, the baby fell asleep on his shoulder, but no one offered to take him.  They all knew he was grabbing on to every second he could with this little boy.

 

Later, as everyone was getting ready to leave, Ben came over and shook his hand.  “You’re a good lad, son.  I feel bad springing the news on Rhian was surprised like that, but I know you meant no harm.”

“I am truly sorry Ben.  It was wrong of me; please forgive me.”

“Don’t worry about it – what’s done is done.  At least you two straightened things out.”

Daeron blinked at him, in surprise.  Obviously, she hadn’t told him about their confrontation, and the Elf didn’t know what to say, so he just nodded and smiled.

“You just go off and do your best, and get back to us, yeah?” Ben took a sleeping Darryn from Daeron’s reluctant arms.  “I best get my grandson home.”

The Elf stroked the baby’s soft cheek. “Thank you for bringing him; he means the world to me.” He kissed the baby’s forehead.  _“Cuio vê, Darryn Rhiannion,_ he whispered gruffly.

“Well, you mean the world to him, son.  Good night.”

They walked out onto the dais, and Daeron waved him off with a sigh.  Then his stomach dropped almost to his boots when he heard Hannah’s voice behind him.

“Daeron?  Can I talk to you privately for a few minutes?”

He sighed and marshaled his strength, for what was surely going to be unpleasant. “Of course.”

She led him over to the huge fountain in the middle of the courtyard, and sat down on a cement bench, patting the seat beside her.

“I know why you want to speak, Hannah.” Daeron sighed and told her quietly.  “I am so sorry, you have to know it was never my intent to cause her pain.”

“I know that, pet.”  Hannah put her hand on his arm.

Daeron’s eyes closed in consternation.  “It was wrong of me to not say anything, no matter what my reason.  I know I hurt her, and I can hardly breathe from the pain of it.” He looked into the woman’s warm compassionate eyes.  “Please; you have to believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you.  You didn’t tell her you were leaving,” Hannah said, in matter-of-fact tone of voice, “because you’re in love with her.”

He gasped in surprise. “How… how did you know that?”

“Because you didn’t tell her you were leaving.” She tilted her head and looked at him.  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Daeron slowly nodded, and looked down at the ground.  “I never meant for it, and it is the last thing she needs right now, but I cannot regret how I feel.”  He sighed and looked at her.  “When did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve suspected for some time now, but when Rhian just talked to me this morning, I was sure of it.”

“Please do not be angry with me.  I could not help it, and I have been trying my best to not let it show.”  The Elf’s heart began to pound in panic, as a thought occurred to him. “Does she suspect?”

“She doesn’t know anything, except that she’s terribly crushed, and disappointed, but that’s to be expected.”  Hannah looked at him carefully.   “You really should have told her, but I understand why you didn’t.” She shook her head.  “I suppose I should have too, but since I began to suspect your feelings, I’ve been making a point not to bring you up.  I’m sorry for that.”

“She said some things that I…  Oh, Hannah, she thinks I never cared about her or Darryn!” he cried.  “That it was all a cruel act!”

“Hush now,” she said in soothing tones. “Rhian told me the same thing.” Hannah put her arm around his shoulders.  “Deep down, she knows that’s really not true, but right now, she is very, very, angry, and that’s what we need to talk about.”

“You do not need to explain, Hannah.”

“Oh, but I think I do.  There is more to this than just being mad at you, love, and I need to make you understand.”

“You are correct; I _do not_ understand!  How could Rhian **_ever_** think I set out to humiliate her?  How could she think I do not love Darryn, when he feels like my son?  He does, Hannah!  Every time I see him, my heart jumps and it’s a fullness I never knew existed.  But for anyone to think I –“

“Shhh….” She soothed him.  “Listen to me, Daeron.  When you first met Rhian, she was beaten down in every way possible: physically, mentally, and emotionally.  She really didn’t want to live, because she thought she had to reason to.”

“Yes.  She could hardly look at anyone in the eye.”

“That’s right.  She thought King Bard was going to take Darryn away, after he was born, because she didn’t try to rescue Garth.”

“I remember.”

“Well, she had planned to kill herself, after they were going to take the baby.”

“ _Ai gorgor!_   Surely not!”

“It was true.  But though things worked out, she was in a very bad way.  One of the things she first said to me, after Darryn was born, was that she felt empty inside.  She said, ‘I don’t know anything.’” Hannah shook her head.  “That brought me to tears, it did.”

“’Know anything?’” Daeron was puzzled.

“Do you remember last month, when we sat up all night with the bricklayer’s daughter?  You told me about Sellwen, didn’t you?”

“Yes.  And you told me about losing your husband.”

“We both know what tragedy is like.  But what else did we ‘know,’” she made quotation marks in the air, “to help us get through all that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Rhian put it so brilliantly, really...  When we had to go through our calamities, and we were adrift in pain, what did we have to _anchor_ us, so we could go on?” She looked at him.  “What happened, after you lost your Sellwen, Daeron?  Who came?”

“Lord Girion, at first.  He…  made me accept the truth, though I tried to fight it.”

“King Girion came, because he was your friend.” She nodded.  “What did he do?”

“I could not let her go; it seemed impossible to believe, Hannah.”   He looked down at his lap, and twisted his hands. “But he and another Healer friend pried her from me, then…  I do not remember much after that…  Turamarth helped me get through the funeral.  He took me home, and my family looked after me.”

“Of course, they did.  So, in all that, you had no doubt there would be loved ones to help you.”

“Yes, that is true.  King Thranduil did, as well.”

“See? You ‘knew’ you had people you could count on.”

“Yes.” Daeron understood, then sighed.  “And Rhian had no one like that.  Ben cared about her, but he was busy in Dale, and did not know of her suffering.”

“It took Rhian a long time to trust us, but she does now.  She has things she can believe in; she ‘knows things,’ but now her worst fear is that she’ll lose it.  Can you understand that?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“She will be afraid of that for a long time, and there’s no avoiding it.  This life is too new!” She shook her head ruefully at him.  “She’s _looking_ for reasons not to trust, because it makes her feel safer. I guarantee, if it hadn’t been this, it would have been something else, probably something minor. 

“This anger,” Hannah squeezed his arm, “is just a part of grieving.  She’s not really angry at you, but for all the hurts she’s had to bear!   She’s grieving the loss of innocence, of the pain, and the time she can’t get back.”

“But –“

“Just listen to me, please, and you’ll understand.  What happened to that girl was atrocious, and now that she finally feels safe, it’s time for her to actually process what happened to her!  That’s going to be difficult, and it will take a long time.”  Hannah smiled sadly. 

“So, she now feels safe enough to face the ugliness that was once her life?”

“Exactly.”  Hannah asked him, “Daeron, when you discovered all that Garth had done to her, what did you feel, on her behalf?”

“Compassion, of course.  A desire to help her.”

“But what did you feel toward Garth?  And Phylip?”

“Rage.” Daeron immediately answered.  “Her father’s apathy disgusted me.  If her husband had been alive, I would have killed him.”

“You would have, too.”

“Yes, whether my King sanctioned it or not.”

“Me, too,” the woman agreed.  “Now, for the first time in her life, Rhian feels safe enough to be angry _on her own behalf!_   Rhian finally feels _outraged_ at what she was put through.  That’s something she’s got to do, or she’ll never accept it, she’ll never really get better.”

Daeron was grasping to understand, so Hannah went on.

“An example is her friendship with Lady Sigrid.  As much as Rhian genuinely likes the girl, it’s hard not to resent that she’s always been loved and supported.  Both those girls lost their Mams, but one was looked after, and one was abused.  Why her?  It’s just not fair.”

“No, it is not.” The Elf hung his head.  “I would be angry, too.”

The woman went on.  “Until Rhian can get past her anger and fear, she’ll never fully accept her past, and move on.” Hannah put her hand on his shoulder.  “Daeron, it may not seem like it, but you’re helping her, right now.”

“So you are saying, what I did was a _good thing_?” Daeron was confused. “You cannot be serious!”

“I’m perfectly serious! Her outburst was good sign for her!  Could you picture her doing that nine months ago? No!  She would have just hung her head and taken it, wouldn’t she?”

Daeron thought about that.  “You are right.  She would have told herself she deserved it.”

“Exactly!”  Hannah smiled.  “She needs to feel this anger before she can accept things and make peace with it.  It’s one of the stages of grief, and you are helping her with that.”

“I am confused, Hannah!  You are making it sound like I made her angry on purpose to ‘help her,’ when it is simply not true!”

“Of course, you didn’t, love.  And there’s another important thing you need to understand about this.”

“What else?”

Hannah looked at him thoughtfully.  “Were you angry for a while, after your Sellwen died?”

“Yes,” he recalled.  “For a time, I felt furious at everything - even at her.”

“What did you do?”

“Turamarth took me out to the practice yards and made me work it out with my sword.”

“Tur let you work it out _withhim **,**_ didn’t he?”

Daeron nodded.  “It helped, a great deal.”

“To be specific, you _trusted_ Turamarth with the ugliest part of you, because deep down, you knew it wouldn’t turn him away?”

He looked at Hannah for several minutes.  “So… you are saying that Rhian said those terrible things because she _trusts_ me?  But she told me she no longer does!”

“Oh, come on,” she jabbed him, “do you _really_ think she means that?  After all the two of you have been through?”

“I do not know, to be honest.”

“Yes, you do, love.  Think about this now:  You and I know how to control our emotions, but when has Rhian ever had a chance to learn?  Daeron, she’s been shut down for ages just to survive, and she honestly doesn’t know how to handle these feelings, yet.”

“So…  she is reacting to everything all at once?”

“She can’t help it, love.  Rhian can’t separate her anger toward you, or Phylip, or Garth, or life in general.  She wants to, and she is trying very hard, but it will take time and practice.”

 “That makes sense.” The Elf said softly. “It makes perfect sense.”

“Think of small children with their mothers, Daeron.  They often cry, have tantrums and yet they know their Mams will be there to settle them down and to comfort them, don’t they?  Rhian has an extraordinary mind, and she’s smarter than most other young girls, but she’s never had anyone to teach her what to do with her feelings, so she’s been hiding them.  Now that they’re being brought out, the poor girl doesn’t have a clue how to handle the hard stuff.”

Hannah shrugged, and smiled. “She trusts **_you_** more than anyone else on Middle Earth, love.  Part of her ‘ _knew,’”_ she said meaningfully, “that no matter what she said or did, you’d never reject her.  In a way, you should be flattered.”

 _“’Flattered?’”_ Daeron huffed a laugh.  “You must be joking!  I feel like my insides have been sliced up!”

“I’ve never been more serious.  I’m also right.  You’d never reject her, would you?”

“Never.  Even if I was not in love with her, I would never turn her away.”  Daeron conceded. “Should I try to see her before I leave?”

“No, love.  Let her come to you, even if she does it through a letter.  She has to work through this, and be ready.”

“All right,” he agreed.  “How is she?”

“Oh, she was a state, but I’ve calmed her down, for now.”  Hannah turned herself on the edge of the bench to face him.  “Now I want to tell you how worried I am for you.” She caressed his cheek.  “I’m sorry for your heartache, my boy,”

He lowered his gaze and closed his eyes.  “That is why I could not tell her I was leaving, Hannah.  I cannot be strong any longer.  I need to be away from her, or I will go mad.”

“Oh, lovey…”  Hannah got up and put her arms around him, and stroked his head.

He rested his head on her bosom and sighed.  “I am sorry I never said anything to you.”

“Don’t be.  It would have put me in a bad position.”  She smiled.  “You just go on and look after yourself.  You know I’ll take good care of our girl, and when you come back, let’s see what happens.”

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 23 rd August, 2942 T.A. **

The dawn was still grey and misty, as the caravan assembled in the Courtyard.  As Daeron helped Sigrid into the Wagon.  Tauriel was behind him, carrying a very-sleepy Tilda.

“But why do we have to go so early?” She whined. “I’m still tired!”

“You can go back to sleep in the wagon, _Gwathel_.” Tauriel told her. “Now, kiss me goodbye, and we will see you in five days.”

“Bye, Tauriel,” Tilda yawned and hugged her. “Bye, Auntie Hil.”

“Bye, Little Bean.” Hilda kissed her. “Give Meriel my love and be the best Flower Girl ever!  Don’t you want to kiss Uncle Percy?”

“You’d better.” He stepped forward and blew a raspberry on her cheek.  “Have fun, squirt.  Bye, Sea Monsters!” he waved to everyone, as he put his arm around his wife’s shoulders.  “We’ll take care of things here; you all go off and have a good time!”

 They handed her up and Sigrid settled her between her and Galion.  Glélindë was also there, with Alis and Dafina, and both girls had fallen back asleep.

Next was Esta, who seemed to be just as affronted by the early hour, because she settled around Tilda and put her head back down.  Thangon was coming too, to help guard the party along the road, and he was excitedly circling _Fînlossen_ , who was chomping at the bit to get started.  Turamarth had a firm hold of his bridle, and spoke softly to him, while Feren stood ready with his horse and _Naurmôr_. 

“Good morning! Everybody ready?”  Bard asked, as he and Thranduil came out of the Great Hall.  The King of Dale was pulling on his riding gloves and wearing his new armor King Thranduil had gifted him during their stay in Erebor.

“It’s just so _early…”_ Tilda complained again.

“Oh, it’s not so bad, Beanie.” He grinned at Bain and Rhys, who were already on their horses, with Alun between them. “You ready boys?  Make sure you listen to everything Daeron tells you, is that clear?”

“Aye!” Bain was excited.

“Yes, My Lord.”

“I’ll make sure they do,” Alun confirmed.

Before Daeron got up on Aegis, he took a moment to look around at the small crowd of people who had gathered to wave them off. 

“I doubt she will come, _Gwador_.” Turamarth said.

“I am a fool,” he sighed. “I do not know which is harder: to leave with this anger between us, or to leave with hope in my heart.”

“Both will be equally difficult.”

 Daeron gave his cousin a long look, then grabbed him and hugged him, hard. 

“Do not worry.  I will look after her, and Darryn, and keep them safe.” Tur murmured, as he embraced his friend.

“I am not hugging you because I will miss her,” he said fiercely.  “I find it nearly impossible to say goodbye to _you, Gwador._   You are the greatest friend I could ever have...”  Daeron swallowed hard.  “I need to do this, but I will miss you very much.”

“And I, you, _Mellon_.  Turamarth patted his back. “Perhaps the Kings may come and visit and will need an escort.”  Turamarth pulled back with a grin.  “Go, and enjoy your adventure, Daeron.  Remember to buy our mothers lots of expensive gifts, aNd whatever you do, try not to set the Golden Woods on fire.”

“ _Pen-channas.”_  Despite his tears, Daeron laughed.  _“Ci orch 'waur!”_

“Now get your _nulav_ up on your horse and get out of here.  The sooner you go, the sooner you get back, _Gwador_.”

Daeron mounted Aegis, and took his place beside the Crown Prince.  His heart felt heavy, and his eyes stung.  He had no right to feel disappointed and hurt, so he threw back his shoulders, and settled himself.

 _“Sevif chûr?_ ” Thranduil shouted, and turned _Naurmor_ around to face them.  At Feren’s nod, he raised his hand.  _“Meninc!”_ Slowly, the wagons began to move, surrounded by their escort. 

They were almost out to the Main Road when a faint noise could barely be heard over the noise of the wagons, and horseshoes clopping over the cobblestones.

Ruvyn was bringing up the rear, and thanks to his keen Elven hearing, he heard it and shouted. _“Aran nîn!  Aran Thranduil!”_

The Elvenking moved out of formation to see what was going on.

“Wait, please! Please!” A faint, pleading voice was heard. “Please!”

 Thranduil nodded to Daeron.  _“Sevig dhâf am mened, Mellon nîn. Horton!”_

Thranduil returned to the front, and they continued toward the West Gate, but Daeron stopped and looked over his shoulder.  The Courtyard, was deserted now—

Except for one person.

 _Ae elo…_ A strangled sound emanated from his throat, and he quickly turned Aegis around and trotted back, then made a spectacular leap out of the saddle and landed on his feet before her.

They stood and looked at each other for several moments, neither of them knowing where to begin.  If she came to yell at him some more, then he would stand there and take it, like he and Hannah had discussed.  There was so much he longed to say, but she needed to take this at her own pace.

“Darryn… is with Da.” She explained.

“It is very early.” He agreed.  “I am sure he is still asleep.”

“He doesn’t usually get up for another hour.”

“You look tired,” he said.

“So do you.” Rhian answered, but she was still looking down at the ground.  “I…”  she tried to say something but fell silent.

A myriad of emotions flowed through Daeron all at once, and he clenched his fists with nervousness.  _Tell me you love me,_ part of him silently begged. Almost at once, these thoughts were met with, _No! Be angry with me still!  I can leave more easily if you yell at me!  Oh Valar, do not make this harder by forgiving me!  Please forgive me and tell me you love me…_

Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Rhian?” He said carefully.

“I… just want to say…” She wrung her hands.  “I…” her lower lip trembled. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“But you had a right to be angry.  I was wrong to keep it from you.”

 _“_ Yes, you were, but I think I know why you didn’t want to.”

Daeron froze in place.  _Oh, no…  No…_   _Do not do this now, before I leave…  I cannot stay, and if you tell me you—_

“I’ve been doing so well, then that man was arrested in the Market, and _I was such a mess again!_  Of course, you didn’t want to say anything and make it worse!  I should have thought of that, and I didn’t.  I’m sorry.”

Daeron couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh, but he swallowed and said nothing.

“I had no right to accuse you of being false, especially with Darryn.  It was cruel of me, and I can’t believe I said those things.  I was so stupid…”

“No, _Hind Calen!_   You had every right to feel angry and betrayed!  It is I who need to ask forgiveness.”

She nodded, and began to cry.  “You’re my best friend, and I couldn’t let you leave thinking…”

Instantly he took his handkerchief and handed it to her.  “Shhh…. Please, do not cry.  Please forgive me for not telling you.  Please.” He said earnestly.  “I would never, _ever_ deliberately hurt you or Darryn.”

“I know, Daeron,” she sobbed.  “But now you’re leaving and it’s not fair!”

“But I will not be gone forever.” He told her gently.  “I _need_ to do this, Rhian, for many important reasons, some which I cannot explain.  This assignment is important work, and it could help all the Free People’s of Middle Earth, not just the Northern Kingdoms.  I do not wish to leave you, or Dale – I love it here -  but I want to do my part to help.  I hope you can understand.”

“I understand.” She sighed ruefully.  “I need to start thinking of what’s best of all of us, not just me.  I was selfish, I know.”

“You are not selfish, Rhian, you are doing your best, which we all are.”

“Can I write you?” she asked.

“I am hoping you will.  I would like to write and tell you all about my adventures, and you will write me about yours, promise?”

She smiled through her tears.  “It won’t be forever.”

“No,” he lifted her chin.  “It will not.  Now that there is peace between us, I think the year will go faster, _Hind Calen_.”

“I couldn’t let you go without talking to you.” She sobbed.  “I just couldn’t.”

“I am glad, but I would not have blamed you.”  He looked down at her.  “I want you to do something for me.”

“What?”

“Look after yourself, and learn to be happy.  Remember when I said, ‘You are only beginning to know yourself and all that you can be?’”

She nodded. 

“And that you will learn more from your mistakes, if you can forgive yourself?  I made a mistake, too.”

“Aye.” She nodded.  “Looks like we both have a lot to learn.”

Daeron smiled.  “It would seem we do.  This year will be a training exercise for both of us, will it not?   Work with Hannah, and love your father, and love Dar…” His eyes filled with tears.  “…love Darryn most of all.” His voice broke.  “Please, tell him how much I love him, and write and tell me about him?” he begged, with a trembling voice.  “Please?”

“I won’t let Darryn forget about you, I promise.”  She huffed out sigh of relief.  “I’m glad we’re friends again.”

“I will _never_ stop being your friend, Rhian.  Even if you hated me, I will always want the best for you.” Daeron looked back toward the disappearing caravan.  “I must go.  I am so sorry.”

Rhian smiled and put on a brave face.  “Go.  I’ll be fine.  When you come back, you’ll hardly recognize either one of us.”  She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.  “Be safe, and come back to us.  Promise you won’t stay away forever.  I’ll miss you.”

He closed his eyes and buried his face in her beautiful wavy hair.  “And I you, _Hind Calen_.”

The Guard tore himself away from her, mounted to Aegis with a renewed energy and took off, but not before turning back to wave at her one last time. 

When he caught up with the rest of the party, Ruvyn saw the raw emotion on his face, and said, “Stay back here, _Mellon_ , I will go up and ride with the boys.”

 _“Ci vilui.”_ Daeron told him gratefully, and took a few moments to compose himself. 

Up ahead, he saw King Thranduil leave the formation and turn his horse back to face him, and when their eyes met, gave him a reassuring nod, which was returned gratefully.

The Lieutenant heaved a sigh, and his adventure began.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Mellyn nîn_ – My Friends

 _Ionnauth nîn_ – Son of my heart

 _Elo! Mae garnen, Ionneg vell!_ – Wow! Well done, my dear little boy!

_Cuio vê, Darryn Rhiannion – Farewell, Darryn son of Rhian_

_Gwathel – sworn-sister_

_Pen-channas –_ Idiot

 _Ci orch 'waur!_ – You are a dirty Orc!

 _Nulav_ \- Arse

 _Sevif chûr?_ – Are you ready?

 _Meninc!_ – Let’s go!

 _Aran nîn!  Aran Thranduil!_ – My King!  King Thranduil!

 _Sevig dhâf am mened, Mellon nîn; Horton!_ – You may go, My Friend, but hurry!

 _Hind Calen_  - “Green Eyes”

 _Ci vilui_ – Thank you/you are kind

 

NOTES:

 _Babinod_ is the Welsh word for baby.

Floyd’s antics are inspired by my own cat, Hugo, who is a goofy, lovable pain in the ass, and I wouldn’t be without him!  Picture of Floyd the Orange Cat is courtesy of:  http://www.wisegeek.com/what-are-marmalade-cats.htm#didyouknowout

 

 

 

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dior's and Meriel's wedding day has finally come, and Tilda finally gets to be the Flower Girl! 
> 
> Alun has an important meeting in the Palace.
> 
> The family planned a fun outing and a picnic, but then a Raven arrived with a message from Dale...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Írimë was the Elven caretaker assigned to Ina after her sister Iola committed suicide, in “And Winter Came…” Chapter 23.
> 
> Lynne and Mona were the servants that had been abused by Iola and Ina in “And Winter Came…” Chapter 5.
> 
>  

 

I believe that if I should die, and you were to walk near my grave,

From the very depths of the earth I would hear your footsteps

** Benito Perez Galdos **

**The Woodland Realm, 24 th of August 2942 T.A.**

“Are you ready, My Lady?”  Meriel, in her wedding finery, bent down and smiled at Tilda.  She looked beautiful in her blue gown, the traditional color for brides in the Woodland Realm, and her father was standing next to her, looking both proud and sentimental at the same time.

Tilda’s dress mirrored hers in color and style, and as Auntie Hil promised, she wore a colorful crown of small flowers, along with green leaves.  Her little white basket was also decorated, and filled with fragrant petals, ready to spread before the bride.

“Uh huh!” she looked down at Esta.  “Are you ready?”

Esta, also wearing a matching crown of flowers, wagged her tail and picked up the basket in her teeth (a new trick which she and Ruvyn taught her), and the doors of the Main Dining Hall opened as the music started.

~o0o~   

> From the day Bard and Percy spied Thranduil helping their youngest with her role as Flower Girl, the Elvenking threw himself into the task with enthusiasm, and was constantly seen marching up and down the corridor with their youngest.
> 
> “Step, step, toss.  Step, step, toss…”
> 
>  Tilda practiced her march every day, until the phrase “Step, step, toss” became annoying earworms that ran through everyone’s heads.  Some were murmuring it to themselves without even realizing it.
> 
> _“Please,_ make it stop!” Bain complained one evening, “I’m dreaming of giant, talking baskets, that hit me over the head with flowers!”
> 
> “Bain!” Sigrid snapped as she jabbed her brother in the ribs. “This is important to her!”
> 
> “Orc-face!” Tilda made a face at him and stuck out her tongue.
> 
> “Children!” Though Bard silently sympathized with his son, he had to intervene. “That’s enough.”
> 
> “Well, I’m still dreaming it.” The boy mumbled. 
> 
> “You’re not the only one,” Percy admitted, then said “OW!” when Hilda kicked him under the table with a severe look, “but our Little Bean will be a wonderful flower girl, won’t she?”
> 
> “Thanks Uncle Percy.”
> 
> “You’re welcome, Little Bean.  Just let the bride and groom have a little attention, yeah?”
> 
> When Tilda rolled her eyes, sighed dramatically and said “I’ll try,”  Tauriel had to quickly hold her napkin over her mouth, to stifle her laughter.
> 
> Ruvyn, who had become Tilda’s favorite Guard, was especially supportive, and continued to raid the wastepaper baskets to make “petals.” On days Thranduil was busy, the Guard helped her practice too.  In fact, it was his idea to teach Esta to carry the basket for her.
> 
> The little Princess _loved_ tossing the little pretend ‘petals,’ but they were causing the staff some headaches, and finally the Head Housekeeper finally went to Hilda.
> 
> “I hate to complain, My Lady, I really do,” Greta told her, “but we’re finding these bits of paper _everywhere_ \- even outside in the courtyard!   Lady Tilda is so sweet, and always tries to help sweep them up, bless her, but she just makes more of a mess, and we have to redo the floor after her!  That’s bad enough, but when it’s damp, those bits of paper paste themselves to the floor, or the cobblestones outside, and we’re forever on our hands and knees scraping them up.  She’s a darling, and I hate to ruin her fun, but we can’t keep up our work and all that, too.”
> 
> So, to Tilda’s (and Ruvyn’s) disappointment, the law was laid down, and paper petals were banned, except for one more occasion…
> 
> The day Glélindë finished Tilda’s Flower Girl dress, she ran in to _Ada’s_ study, to show it off.  “Lookee!  Isn’t it pretty?”
> 
> “It’s very beautiful, _Tithen Pen._   Did you show your Da?”
> 
> “Not yet!” she turned and scurried to Da’s office.
> 
> “Look at you, Beanie!  You’ll be prettier than the bride, I think.”  Bard made to pick her up, but she jumped back.
> 
> “No, Da!  You’ll squish my dress and get it all wrinkly!”
> 
> “Oops, you’re right.” Bard kissed the top of her head.  “It’s all about the dress, isn’t it?”
> 
> “Da?” She asked in her charming, wheedling voice.   “Auntie Hill and Uncle Percy and Tauriel won’t be at the wedding...”
> 
> “That is a tragedy, indeed,” said Thranduil, who appeared in the doorway. 
> 
>  “But don’t they want to _see_ me be a Flower Girl?” 
> 
> Thranduil did his best to keep a straight face. “Perhaps we should have a ‘dress rehearsal,” do you not think, Da?”
> 
> “Mmmm…” Bard rubbed his chin.  “I think we could arrange something.”
> 
> And of course, Thranduil put himself in charge and turned it into a real production. Chairs were lined up in the Great Hall for everyone who lived and worked at the Castle, and their little Princess and Esta performed their role to perfection, and was met with affectionate applause.
> 
> ~o0o~

Now that the moment has finally come, Tilda began to have butterflies in her stomach, so she looked up the aisle up on the dais and sure enough, there was _Ada._   He gave her an encouraging smile and nodded to her and she began to march, whispering the steps. 

Everyone in the seats smiled and said “Aww,” and she saw her friend Ruvyn, smile wave as she continued, grinning from ear to ear.   She reached into the basket and spread the fragrant flower petals all the way down the long aisle, and took her place in the first row next to her Da, and Esta lay at her feet and put her head between her paws.

“I did it!”  She whispered loudly, and her voice reverberated throughout the huge Dining Hall, making everyone smile.

“You sure did, Little Bean, and I’m proud of you.” Bard kissed her temple, and put his arm around her.  From up on the dais, _Ada_ grinned down at her and winked, just as everyone rose to their feet at the bride’s entrance.

Dior was standing next to Feren, and he gasped openly at his bride, as she floated down the long aisle of the Hall.  Her hair was piled on her head in elaborate swirls and braids, with small flowers and gems sparkling against her shiny black hair.  She was stunning and her intended clearly thought he was the most fortunate Elf on Middle Earth.

Bard noticed a formal Elvish wedding was longer and much more complex than the ceremonies in Dale, and _certainly_ more involved than their own short, simple ceremony in Thranduil’s tent last December. 

Tilda leaned her head against Bard’s side, so he lifted her into his lap. “I hope you’ll save a dance for me later,” he whispered. 

She just smiled and nodded, never taking her eyes off the bride and groom. “It’s so pretty,” she whispered in awe.  “It’s all so pretty...”

The Wedding was done entirely in Sindarin, but it was easy to follow and really lovely.  Gold Rings were exchanged, Feren wrapped his cord around their joined hands, and Meriel’s mother did the same with the white cord that was used when she wed Meriel’s father.

Bard smiled as Dior and Meriel were looking at each other the same way he and Thranduil did when they were wed, and, if he were to be honest, the same way he and Mattie did.  He looked at his Elf up on the dais who was resplendent in his golden robes and his tall, wooden crown, decorated with small summer flowers and greenery.

This crown never left the Palace, for it was only worn when the Elvenking was making official proclamations, such as settling legal matters up on his tall throne, declaring the names of new citizens of his realm, and in this case, pronouncing Dior and Meriel as husband and wife.

The music filled the Hall once more as they kissed, and everyone stood and applauded.  Thranduil met Bard’s eyes and smiled. His Elf was remembering their wedding, too.

The festivities lasted well into the night.  Bard and Thranduil danced together several times, as well as with their daughters.  Tilda was having a wonderful time and she and received many compliments on her stellar performance.

“I liked being a flower girl, Da,” she told him, as he balanced her on her hip and danced with her. 

“I think the Elves will be having little girls in their weddings from now on.” He told her with a smile.  “You did a good job, Beanie.”

“Well, _Ada_ helped me.  So did Ruvyn.”

“Oh, they did?”  Bard pretended to be surprised.

“Aye.” She told him seriously.  “ _Ada_ told me how to do it, so I wouldn’t get mixed up and forget.”

“I see.  Did it work?”

“Uh huh.” She smiled. “Da?”

“What Little Bean?”

She looked at him seriously.  “ _Ada’s_ my best friend and I love him a lot...”

“I know that.” He smiled down at her.  “He adores you, too.”

She looked worried.  “But, I don’t want to you feel bad.” 

“Why would I feel bad?”

“Because I love him, but you’re still my Da, and I love you too!”

Bard held her to him and kissed her forehead.  “Oh, I’m not worried.  I like seeing you and _Ada_ spend time with each other, and since you came back to Dale, I’ve been so busy.” He booped her nose.  _“I’ve_ been worried you think I don’t want to make time for you.”

“I know.  But…   Sigrid and Bain remember Mam a lot and I don’t.  Auntie Hil and Uncle Percy were always there, and that’s good, but it’s not the same, is it?”

“No, love, it really isn’t.  Maybe you feel like _Ada_ is giving you what your Mam couldn’t.”

She nodded her head.  “But I really really do love you and Auntie Hil and Uncle Percy, though.  I just don’t want you to forget.”

She put her arms around him and hugged him tight, “Oops!” she quickly pulled back patted her head, making sure her flowered crown wasn’t smushed.

“It doesn’t look too bad, love.”  Bard said gruffly, and kissed her again.  “I love you, Beanie.”

“May I cut in?  I have not had a chance to dance with the prettiest girl in the room, yet.”  Thranduil smiled and held out his arms.

“Of course, you may,” Bard smiled as she held out her arms. From over the Elvenking’s shoulder, Tilda smiled and winked at him.  (Or tried to wink, anyway.  Ruvyn had been trying to teach her how to do that, as well as how to whistle, and other important things a child needs to know.)

The King of Dale walked over to where Daeron was sitting with his parents.  His Aunt Indis and Uncle Ómar were dancing.  And just as Bard reached them, Adamar and Idril got up to join them.

“How are you, son?” Bard asked him, quietly.

“I…  will be all right, I think.” Daeron said, with a determined smile.

“I’m glad Rhian came to see you off.” Bard told him.  “I hope it helped.”

“It did, My Lord.  Whatever happens, I want no animosity between us.  I thought at first it might make things easier if she remained angry, but now I realize I could not bear it if she hated me.”

“I think you’re right.” Then Bard changed the subject.  “I know I’ve thanked you time and time again for what you’ve done for me and my family,” he looked over at Tilda, who was giggling in her _Ada’s_ arms.  “I could tell you for the next two hundred years, and it wouldn’t be enough.”  He turned back to the Elf.  “And don’t tell me you were just doing your duty.  You’re a special Elf and I’m honored to be your friend.”  Bard stood up and held out his hand, which Daeron took.  “Safe journey, and  come back to us next year, Daeron.  Dale needs you.”

“I’ll… do my best, My Lord.”

“No titles.  Today we are good friends.”

“Thank you, Bard.  I appreciate your friendship.” 

“But I will give you a command: Go and enjoy yourself!  It’s a party, after all.”

Just then Tilda came over to them.  Daeron bent down and smiled at her.  “May I have this dance, Princess?”

She gleefully hugged him around the knees, then he scooped her up to take her back out onto the dance floor.

Bard laughed at the two of them, then as he looked around, his eyes widened.  There was Sigrid, dancing with _… Bain?_   She was wearing the same dress she wore in Erebor and she was just as beautiful.  Bain seemed to be enjoying himself, although he had complained about the tight, high collar of his tunic earlier.  And Rhys was over by the food table, talking with Ruvyn and Ivran. 

Alun was dancing with a lovely dark-haired Elf, who was teaching him the steps.   He’d been working so hard lately – it was good to see him relax, now that he had Evan to look after things until he returned to Dale. 

Alun had another reason for being here, but Bard would let the Treasure-keeper talk to him about it in his own time.

“ _Meleth nîn_?  You look deep in thought.” Thranduil’s voice was smooth and deep, as he came up behind him, and discreetly put his hands upon Bard’s waist.

“Hello, love; are you having a good time?”

“I am.  I am happy there will be weddings in the Palace once more.” Thranduil grinned.  “And babies to name!”

“Hmmm…” Bard agreed.  “I couldn’t help thinking: as beautiful as this was, I loved our private little wedding in the camp.  I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“As Kings, much of our lives belong to our people, but I am glad that belonged to just us.”  Thranduil rested his chin on Bard’s shoulder, as they watched their family. “I am so happy, Bard.  I really am.”

“Me, too.”

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 24 th of August 2942 T.A.**

Alun hardly slept last night.  He tossed and turned, and rehashed old memories - he couldn’t help it.  Since he’d learned the truth about his mother, and the death of his Aunt, he’d been trying to reframe his his childhood into a different paradigm.  It took some effort – how many years had he hated the both of them?  And when he learned of Rhys’s abuse, his rage was barely contained.

It was time to let all of that go.  Over the past five months, under Írimë’s close supervision, letters had been exchanged between him and his mother, and her Elven caretaker decided she was ready to meet with him face-to-face.

What would happen?  Would he see her and feel all that anger and hurt again?  He didn’t want to bear that burden anymore – and neither did Ina, he knew that.  But emotions were unpredictable and there was not guarantee that one or both wouldn’t end up in worse shape than before.

One thing he was certain of, was that Rhys _would not_ be participating.  Alun needed to see how all this went first, and Írimë agreed.  Alun’s first concern was for his son, of course, and Írimë’s first concern was for her patient – it was just too much at once, even if Alun and Rhys were willing.

Father and son spoke at length at length about it before they left for the Woodland Realm.

 

> ~o0o~
> 
> “Da, I really don’t want to see her, is that bad?”
> 
> “No, Rhys.  I’m not going to push you into anything you’re not ready for.  In any case, I want this to be just between your Grandmother and me for now.”
> 
> “Good.” Rhys said thoughtfully.  “I think I _would_ like to see her someday, and I think I should because she was hurt by Aunt Iola, too.”
> 
> “Oh, Rhys; she was hurt by a lot more than that, she was forced to live a terrible life.  I know she abused you son, and you have every right to feel however you feel about that.  Forgiveness will take time, and if you can do that eventually, you’ll feel better.  And if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”
> 
> Rhys hugged him.  “I love you, Da.”
> 
> “Love you more, kid.”
> 
> ~o0o~

Now, he nervously stood outside the door of Ina’s apartment and knocked.  His heart was pounding, and his hands were shaking, although he wasn’t quite sure why.

The door was opened by her caretaker, Írimë with a smile.  “Please, Master Alun; come in.”  Her calm, cheerful manner helped to soothe his nerves, and he entered the apartment to find his mother sitting on the couch with terror in her teary eyes.

Instantly all doubt and fears left him as rushed to sit beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.  “I’m so sorry, Mother for all you went through.” His voice was rough.

“Oh, my boy,” Ina began to sob.  “I’m so sorry.  Please, please forgive me…” Her body was shaking with nervousness and sorrow.  “I’m so, so sorry…”

Alun took her hand.  “It will be all right.  You didn’t deserve what happened to you, no one does.  All that matters, is that we’re here, now.”

She fell into his arms and they held each other and cried for a long, long time.  Ina clung to him, petrified that if she let him go, she’d lose him forever.  Alun stroked her hair and felt her frail, elderly shoulders.  She was so thin, she looked like she’d break if he squeezed her too tightly!

“Shh…” he whispered, as she let more of her grief and guilt out.  “You’re all right, now.  Things will be better, you’ll see.”

At last her tears were spent, and she took the cup Írimë handed to her.  “Please, Mistress, you must drink this.  It has something to calm your nerves.”

Ina took it gratefully and drank it. 

“What type of medicine is that?” Alun asked.

“Mistress Ina is given passionflower and chamomile tea to help calm her nerves, but in cases of extreme anxiety, we put a very small amount of poppy juice to keep her calm.”

“Poppy juice? Is that really necessary?” Alun was concerned.  He remembered a few men from Laketown who had become dependent upon the stuff.  “I don’t want Mother addicted to anything.”

“Fear not, Lord Alun.  The benefits of avoiding a full-blown panic attack far outweigh the disadvantages.  She is only given it in times of great stress or need, and only a small amount.  We have been helping her to try to cope with them without remedies, with some success, but you must understand the nature of these attacks.”

“Such as?”

“Sometimes these things need to be stopped, otherwise, Mistress Ina’s anxiety will take on a life of its own, causing stress to her heart and to her body.  She has learned to tell the difference between a mild attack verses a severe one, and knows to tell me when she feels it coming on.”

“Don’t worry, Alun.  I don’t like asking for it, and oftentimes, Írimë has to insist.  I don’t like taking that stuff, but if I don’t, I suffer for days, sometimes weeks, and…” she looked it him with a watery smile.  “Time is so precious right now.  I want to be well and learn how to live…

“…like you’ve never had the chance to before.” Alun finished.  “I’m so glad you’re getting better.  I wish I could undo all that you went through.”

“What’s done is done, son.  I’m also learning not to worry about my ‘woulda, shoulda, couldas.’” She nodded.  “Don’t you do that either.”

“How are you now, really?” Alun asked her.

“I’m…  having more good days than bad, now.  These Elves have been so kind!  I’ve never been treated so nicely, except for your father, of course, and it helps a lot.”

“So, you like it here?”

“I really do.  Lord Thranduil offered to let me stay for as long as I want.”

“Do you think you’ll stay permanently?”  Alun asked her.

“I think so.  There’s no place for me in Dale –“

“That’s not true, Mother.  You will always have a home with us, if you want it.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, but he suddenly realized it was true.  He genuinely wanted a chance to have a loving relationship with his mother.

Ina smiled a caressed his cheek.  “I love hearing you say that; it means more than I can tell you.  But darling, I’m just not ready, and don’t know if I’ll ever be.  I feel comfortable and at ease for the _first time in my entire life!_   I feel _safe_ here, can you understand that?  I finally, _finally_ feel _safe!_   Can you understand what that means to me?”

“I think I do, Mother.  After everything, you deserve to live out your life where you are happiest, no matter where that is.”

Írimë got up and picked up a basket that had been sitting in the corner of the room.  “Mistress Ina has been working hard with her hands.”

“Yes!  I never had the chance to do anything like this before, but I find I like it very much.” Ina opened the lid and proudly showed him some of the projects she’d been working on.  “I know it might seem silly to others, but…”

“No, it’s not.  It’s important to you, Mother, so it’s important to me. I’m proud of you.”

“It is good therapy for her, Lord Alun -” Írimë began.

“Just Alun, please,” he smiled at the Elf.  “I was given the title because of my position in Dale, but in these rooms, I’m just a son.”

“Of course.  As I was saying, the needlework does a great deal to ease her depression and anxiety.  The different colors and the repetitive movements has a meditative effect, plus the satisfaction of her accomplishment helps her self-esteem.”

“I can see that,” Alun put his arm around his mother again, “What have you done, so far?”

“I like the knitting, but I think I love embroidery the best.  In fact, I made something for you, if you would accept it.”  Ina got up from the couch and went into her bedroom and came back with a wrapped square package.

“I made it for you, but you don’t have to –“

Alun smiled, “If course I want it.” He unwrapped the cloth to find a framed picture of flowers, with a tall tree in the background.  Though the design was simple, he could see the stitches were precise and worked with great care.

“This is wonderful Mother!  Is this a real place?”

She nodded, smiling broadly.  “There’s this one place I always like to sit when I’m in the King’s Garden, and I asked Írimë if she could get someone to draw it for me, so I could make this.  It’s my favorite place at the Palace.”

Alun smiled and kissed her cheek.  “I’m honored.  I’ll hang this up, the minute we get home.”

“You really like it?” Ina was unsure.  “You aren’t just being polite?”

“No.  It’s a wonderful gift, and every time I see it, I’ll think of you.” He smiled.  “I was thinking of putting up in my house, but I think this will go nicely in my office, so everyone can see it.”

She put her arms around his waist.  “That would be wonderful, Alun.”  Then she shyly and sat down again, sitting a little bit apart.

Alun took no offense.  Írimë had explained that Ina simply isn’t used to physical affection and will often pull back when she has had enough, and he was determined to let her set the pace for that. 

He could see her begin to get a little tired, and at a nod from Írimë, he stood up.  “I’m going to go now, but I’d like to see you tomorrow, if you’re willing?”

“I’d love that son.”  She pulled some envelopes out of her pockets.  “Could you do something for me?  I’d like to apologize to Lynne and Mona for how I treated them.  I don’t expect them to forgive me, but I still want to tell them I’m sorry.”

He took them and put them in the pocket of his tunic.   “Of course, I will, Mother.  See you tomorrow.”

 

“So?” Rhys asked him that night, when they were in their quarters.  “How did it go with Gran?”

Alun smiled.  “Better than I could hope.  She’s still fragile, so I didn’t stay long, but I’m going to be seeing her again every day until we have to leave.”

“That’s good…”  Rhys looked uncertain.

“No, lad.  I’m not going to make you see her.  I don’t think either one of you are ready for that, but anytime you want to write her a letter, I’ll see it gets delivered.”

The boy looked relieved.  “Sure, Da.  Tomorrow, Lord Thranduil wants to take us all out into the forest. Are you coming?”

“I’d love it.  Sounds like fun.”

 

***************

**The Woodland Realm, 25 th of August 2942 T.A.**

“Are we ready, Sea Monsters?  Tilda, did you get your riding gloves?”

The Royal Family was getting ready for the day’s outing.  They had planned a long ride into the forest (the safe sections, of course) and a picnic had been planned.  Ruvyn, Ivran and Daeron were part of their escort, and were at the barns getting their horses ready.

“Nuh-uh.  They’re in my room - wait for me!”  She trotted through the door of the Kings’ bedroom to her nursery.

“Why does she need them?”  Bain said, irritably.  “Blossom isn’t even here!”

“Because she will be helping me with _Naurmôr_ ,” Thranduil explained, “and I would appreciate a little more consideration from you, _Ion nîn_.” He gave the boy a pointed look. “Her left hand still shows weakness.”

“Sorry, Ada.”  Bain was sheepish.

“You will apologize to your sister,” Bard said.  “Is that clear?”

“Yes, Da.  I’m just impatient to go!”

The family, along with their dogs, left the Royal Chambers and made their way down the wide hallway of the Royal Wing to find Alun and Rhys exiting their suite to join them.

“Good morning!” Alun said, as he patted Thangon’s head.  “Ready for some fun, boy?”

“WOOF!” was his answer.

“Ready?”  Rhys asked the other children.

“Aye!” Bain said.  Still feeling badly about his earlier comment, he turned to Tilda.  “Do you need help with your gloves, Til?”

“Please.  I can’t get the one on right, cause my fingers get all fumbly.”

Bain stopped and helped her get her fingers in, then buttoned them at her wrist.  Once done, he looked up and smiled at _Ada’s_ nod of approval.

They were halfway through the Palace when a messenger came up to them and saluted.   “This just arrived for you, Lord Bard.  It came via Raven.”

“Thank you,” Bard opened the message, and after reading, sighed and shook his head. 

“I’m afraid we can’t go on a picnic today, kids.  We need to cut our trip short, and get back to Dale as soon as possible.”

A groan of disappointment went up.  “But why?” Tilda asked. 

“I’m afraid Mistress Ellyn died last night.”

 

*******************

**City of Dale, 24 th of August 2942 T.A.**

Ellyn’s condition had been deteriorating over the past several days, and there was nothing more to be done.   

> ~o0o~
> 
> Ever since she had been diagnosed last month, her Healers had been doing their best to stop the many growths in her body, and to keep her pain to a minimum, but the damage to her organs had already been done. 
> 
> Her children came to see her every day, and she did her best to rally for them, and to keep a smile on her face, as she held Owena (with Anna’s help lately) and cuddled with Maddox.  Bowen was taking it badly, but he tried to keep a brave face with her. 
> 
> They tried to be brave for each other.
> 
> Bowen had moved back in with Anna and Daffyd almost two weeks ago, but still spent time with Turamarth as often as he could.  Beriel helped him more than he ever expected, and Anna and Daffyd enjoyed having the big dog around.  Owena loved to crawl all over her, as she babbled in baby talk, which Beriel pretended to understand.  She treated the infant with great care, and if Owena crawled over to her and went to sleep against her, the big dog curled around her protectively, as if she was her pup.
> 
> She treated all the children like her pups, in fact.  Maddox was hesitant at first, but soon he joined in the fun and played with her when they went to the park.  Beriel was good around the big horses in the livery, and Daffyd and Powell enjoyed her company.
> 
> But she was Bowen’s dog, make no mistake.  She slept with the boy every night, and if he had a bad dream or woke with anxiety, she was there to lick his face to awareness.  When he cried, she snuggled even closer and let him use her fur to wipe his tears.  And he was crying almost every night.  He was still suffering from a deep depression, and she made it her personal mission to keep her boy from falling into despair.  She whined and butted at his hand, when she sensed his worry and sadness, and when they were outdoors, tried to make him smile by bringing him sticks to throw.  
> 
> Every day, if the weather was good, Anna would put Owena in her pram and take all the children to the park to play.  Turamarth would accompany them as often as he could, but Beriel always there, always on the job. 
> 
> The other children loved her, especially at the big slide.  There she would be, patiently taking her place in line with the other kids, and when it was her turn, she’d climb up the ladder, slide down with as much dignity as she could muster, amidst the giggles and laughter of the others, then take her place in line once again.
> 
> It made Bowen smile, and _anything_ that would make her boy smile, she would do.
> 
> ~o0o~

On this particular day, Ermon had given permission for Bowen to bring Beriel, so she could meet his mother.  The first time the dog entered the room, she went over to the bed and put her big head in Ellyn’s lap, and whined.

“Oh, look at you…  So, this my boy’s new friend.”  The woman said, with a grin.  Then she sighed and leaned down to whisper softly in the Beriel’s ear. “Please, look after my Bowen, would you?  Look after all my babies, and keep them safe? Please?”

Beriel put her front paws on the bed, held her face close to Ellyn’s and became very still, as she looked into Ellyn’s eyes for several minutes.  Beriel knew what the woman was asking, and when she gently licked Ellyn’s hand, the dying mother knew she would protect them with her life, if need be.

Though no one else in the room heard what the woman whispered in the dog’s ear, everyone knew a serious promise had been made, and they could see Ellyn relax a little bit.

“So, you like her, Mam?”  Bowen asked.

“I do, love.  And I can tell she loves you, almost as much as I do.” She held out her arm for Bowen to sit on the bed with her.  She kissed his temple, and said, “You’re going to be all right, son.  Just remember to think of all the friends you have, and all those who love you.  Do you still talk to the stars at night?”

Bowen stilled.  “I…  No.  I just can’t, Mam.  I just can’t do it.”

“That’s all right, love.  But one day, you’ll be ready to do it again, and your Da and I will be there to listen.”  She smiled at him.  “But I don’t want you to think we’re so far away as those stars, my boy.”  She put her hand over his heart.  “I’m inside you, too, and I always will be.  I know it will be hard to think about your memories at first, but one day, they won’t pain you so much, and I want you to think of everything your Mam and Da taught you.  Most important, our love is inside you, and it won’t leave just because our bodies do.

“You may not see me, or even feel me, but I’ll be looking over your shoulder all your life.   Da and I will always be there, whether you talk to the stars or not.” She pressed her hand into his heart again, and smiled.  “I’ll live on in you, my sweet boy.”

Bowen started to cry.  “Oh, Mam…”

“It’s all right, love.  It’s all right to cry.” She kissed his head, as he leaned against her bosom.  “Feel however you feel, but promise me something.”

“What?” he wiped his eyes. 

“Tell someone how you feel.  Tell Beriel, tell Anna and Daffyd, or Tur.  Just tell somebody.  Do you promise me?  Promise?”

“I will.  I love you.”

“I love you too, and I won’t stop loving you, just because my body gave out, do you understand?  I’ll still be here.”

She motioned for Bowen to step back, then Maddox approached her with wide eyes, and she patted the place beside her. 

“What do you mean?” the little boy asked, as he snuggled under his mother’s arm. “How will you still be here?”

“Well, do you know how your hand looks when you put a mitten on it?”

“Uh huh.  I like my red ones.”

“I like them too.  Pretend the mitten is my body, but it got full of rips and holes.  If you take off the mitten, what’s underneath?”

“My hands.”

“That’s right.  So just because you don’t have your mittens on anymore, doesn’t mean your hands go away, right?  Do they disappear?”

Maddox shook his head.

“So now you know I won’t disappear, just my body will.  But my spirit and my love live on.”

Maddox began to cry.  “I don’t wanna say goodbye, Mam.  I really really really don’t.”

“I know.  Sometimes things just happen. But I don’t want you to think on that.  You’ll have lots of people to help you when you’re sad and Anna and Daffyd love you very much.  Most important, Maddie, you’ll have your brother and sister.  I want you all to stick together, do you understand?”

“I will.”

“And I want to tell you something else, too.  If you ever want to start calling Anna your ‘Mam’ and Daffyd your ‘Da,’ that’s fine by me and we won’t be upset.  I want you all to love them as much as you love me and Da, because I know they’ll love you the same.  Okay?”

“O-Okay,” Maddox sniffed.

 “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, sweetie.  And if you never do, that’s fine, too.  Just do what you’re comfortable with, boys.  Just know we love you so much.”

When Anna stepped forward to put Owena into Ellyn’s arms, she said, “Now I want Owena to be _your_ daughter, Ann.  I want her to have a Mam and Da like my boys did.”

“Oh, Ellyn,” Anna started to cry.  She carefully sat on the edge of the bed and gently hugged her best friend.  “Don’t you worry; I’ll make sure these kids never forget you and Owen.  But oh!” She wiped her eyes. “I’m going to miss you! We’ve been friends since we were little girls.  What am I going to do without you?”

Ellyn smiled through her tears.  “We’ll see each other again, one day.”

Then she kissed Owena.  “Oh, my little girl.   I’m going tell your Da all about you, when I see him…” Tears were flowing down her face and she kissed the baby’s blonde head.  “I love you so much…”

Finally, it was Daffyd’s turn.  He bent down and kissed the woman’s hollow cheek.  “I’ll do right by those kids, and you know Lord Bard will be looking after them, too.  They’ll have a good life, I promise you.  Make sure you tell Owen that.” Daffyd wiped his eyes.  “We’ll make sure these kids do you both proud.”

“Thank you,” Ellyn whispered.  “Thank you so much.”

Anna took the baby back and the small crowd in her room gathered at the foot of her bed.  Maddox was crying, Bowen was still holding his hand, but resting his other one on Beriel’s back.  Anna was holding the baby with Daffyd’s arm around his wife.

Ellyn did her best to straighten her shoulders, though the pain was terrible, she gave her children a beautiful, hopeful smile. 

“Now, go on and get your dinner, kids.  I’ll see you sooner than you think!”  She waved them off. “I love you all!”

After her family left, Elénaril came over and gently helped her lie flat.  By this time, Ellyn’s bones were riddled with the disease, and only her healers knew the amount of pain she was in, yet she would never deny her children (or herself) the goodbye hugs, and the smile they all deserved.

She couldn’t keep from crying out in agony, as her body was shifted.    “I’m sorry,” she groaned sheepishly.

“No, Mistress.  Please do not apologize.  I only wish I could be gentler.”  Elénaril stroked her brow with concern.  “I am glad you could keep up the pretense for your children, today.”

“But I can’t do it anymore,” Ellyn began to weep.  “It hurts so bad now; I just can’t take it.”  She took the Healer’s hand.  “You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course.”  She went to the door and called out for her husband, who entered the room with a small bottle. 

Ermon smiled at her with compassion.  “I must ask you once again: are you sure about this, Ellyn?”

Ellyn nodded.  “Aye.  I want my children to remember me with a smile on my face.  I can’t let them see me get any worse and wither away to something they don’t even recognize.  I won’t do that to them, and” she sobbed, “it hurts so bad…”

“You are very brave, Mistress Ellyn,” Ermon sat on the chair beside her bed.  “This will help you fall into a deep peaceful sleep, and it will be our honor to sing you into the arms of your beloved husband.”

He carefully held the bottle to her lips, and helped her drink it down in small sips.  “I am sorry it is so bitter.” He told her.

“No; it’s fine.  Leaving this world before your natural time _should_ be a bitter thing, don’t you think?”  She continued to take the concoction, until it was gone, then Elénaril gave her some wine to remove the taste. 

Elénaril helped her lay back down, and took her other hand.  “Do not be afraid, _Mellon_ _nîn_.”

“You all have been so kind to me.” Ellyn told them with a weak smile. 

“It was our privilege to care for you.” Ermon answered for his wife, who was unable to speak from emotion.  “We will also miss you in these Halls.” He gently stroked her brow.  “Go now, and meet your Creator.  Close your eyes, and try to relax…”

Then the couple began to sing together, and though it wasn’t in Westron, Ellyn understood it, nonetheless. 

_Pictures of a beautiful, dark-haired Elf Maiden appeared in her mind, and a tall, handsome Man was watching her dance and fell in love with her.  They shared many adventures, they died, and were reborn again, to live out their lives as Mortals.  She somehow knew they lived together happily and peacefully, until they lay down together and gave their spirits up to Eru Ilúvatar..._

Ellyn suddenly found herself waking up in a beautiful meadow filled with cheerful yellow buttercups.  She inhaled deeply and sat up to look around.  The sky was a bright blue, the sun was warm on her face. There was also a stunningly beautiful Maiden with dark hair and pointed ears, standing beside her, looking down upon her with a smile.

“You were in the song…” Ellyn said in wonder.

“I am Lúthien, and it is my task to welcome you here.” She held out her hand and helped Ellyn to stand up.  “How do you feel?”

“I feel…  wonderful; peaceful.” She moved her arms and legs a little.  “Oh!  Nothing hurts, now!  Nothing hurts at all!” She laughed with joy.

“I am glad.  Come with me, child.”  She still had hold of Ellyn’s hand and they started walking toward a thick grove of trees in the distance.

“I know you; they sang of you as I was…”

“Elves often do, Ellyn, for they know of my duties here.”

“Duties?”

“I am sure you have learned my story through their song, so you know Beren and I were granted a second birth, in which I forsook the fate of my people.  I miss my family, of course,” she smiled serenely, “but I made the right choice.  I am grateful to Eru for allowing Beren and I to be together, so I asked to help greet those who first come here.”

“Where is… here?”

Lúthien looked around her with her hands held outward. “’Here’ is the place you always knew you would go.  Here is… _here.”_ The Elf smiled enigmatically.  “Does it have to have a name?”

“No…  I suppose not.” Ellyn said, thoughtfully. “Where are we going?”

Lúthien pointed towards the trees.  “To them.”

Ellyn followed her finger then gasped. 

“Ellyn!  Ellyn!”

Someone was running towards her, shouting her name, and he was followed by a small crowd of people.

People she had known.

People she had missed.

People she still loved.

She began to run with her arms open wide, and soon was caught up in Owen’s arms.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellyn's children bid her a sad farewell in a lovely ceremony. 
> 
> The first day of school is here, but will Ada survive?
> 
> Daeron and his father, Adamar, spend some time together before he leaves.
> 
> While Thranduil waits for the Wardens to arrive in the Woodland Realm, he approaches his Council with a matter that has been weighing on his heart.

“But, my darling, listen

keep it up in your mind

that, when your wings won’t fly

and your legs can’t pass the roads

and you’re all torn and tired

 

I’ll be waiting; just come home

I’ll be waiting.

I’ll be waiting….”

 

** -Om Sutawane, “I’ll Be Waiting” **

 

 

**City of Dale, 27 th August, 2942 T.A.**

The turnout for Ellyn’s funeral was huge, though it brought no comfort to Bowen.  It seemed appropriate to the boy that the rain was pouring down over them, as her linen-wrapped body was lowered into the ground. 

Anna held a shawl over herself and Owena, to shelter her from the rain, and the woman was doing her best to comfort the baby, but nothing could soothe her plaintive cries.  She was just an infant, but her instinct told her Mam was gone, and she, too felt the pain of separation, though she didn’t quite understand it.

Maddox’s face was buried in Daffyd’s shoulder as he sobbed, and said, “I want my Mam!”  The people at the funeral impulsively crowded closer to what remained of the little family, giving their silent support to the new orphans.

Bowen was still and silent.  He felt Turamarth’s hands resting on his shoulders, whispering encouragement.  He felt Beriel beside him, leaning against his legs, offering warmth and support, but nothing thawed his frozen heart.  This all felt surreal.

And cruel.

“Bowen?” Turamarth leaned down and whispered to him.  “It is time.  Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. I can do it.”  The boy said.

He went over and took Owena from Anna, and Hilda handed him two small bouquets of flowers, and one to Maddox.   The children of Owen and Ellyn stepped over to the edge of the grave.

“Goodbye, Mam,” Bowen said, as he tossed one bouquet.  Then he nudged Maddox forward and encouraged him to do the same.  Strangely at this moment, Owena had stopped crying, and looked at Bowen intensely, as he helped her with her own flowers.

One by one, the others attending the service followed suit, until Ellyn’s body was covered with colorful and fragrant flowers.  Even in the raid, their wonderful smell brought ease to the aching hearts of those who mourned her passing.

And the rain fell.

Bard stepped forward, and with a gruff voice, said the traditional prayer for the dead:

_Oh, Eru, Father of All,_

_Oh, Ulmo, and all the Valar,_

_who spreads out the heavens_

_and rules the raging of the seas,_

_we beg you to gather and receive this day,_

_Ellyn, wife of Owen,_

_mother of Bowen, Maddox and Owena_

_into your love and protection._

_Preserve her soul, and bring her to the haven_

_where she will be yours to cherish and protect,_

_Until her children and all her loved ones,_

_can be joined with her again in boundless joy._

 

Bard went to Ellyn's children and placed his hands on each of their heads and blessed them with this prayer:

_We beg of you, O Eru Ilúvatar,_

_Just as we beg the mighty Valar,_

_To watch over and protect_

_The children of Ellyn and Owen_

_throughout their lives._

_Help us as we, their community of friends,_

_Support them, protect them, and care for them._

_We especially ask of you to help Anna and Daffyd,_

_As they take these beloved children into their bosom,_

_To nurture and raise them to be not only good citizens of Dale,_

_but of Middle Earth._

_May Ellyn find peace in death,_

_And may Bowen, Maddox and Owena find peace and joy in life,_

_Until they can be reunited with their parents.”_

Thranduil stepped forward, gave a formal salute to the body of Ellyn, and turned and gave her children the same, then added his own prayer and blessing, first in Sindarin, then in Westron:

_O, Eru Ilúvitar!_

_Natho hîdh nen gurth Ellyn,_

_Govan hen i nothren în ah i mellyn în mi Mannos._

_Oh, Eru Father of all,_

_Help Ellyn find peace in death,_

_May she join her family and friends in the afterlife._

Then the Elvenking went over to the children of Mistress Ellyn, kissed their brows, and blessed them, saying:

_Dhen iallon nathad Bowen, Maddox a Owena hir_ _sîdh cuil;_

_Di nestathodh naeth a tin guir,_

_Natho din ad hir gell._

_I beg of you to help Bowen, Maddox and Owena find peace in life,_

_Please heal their grief and their hearts._

_Help them find joy once more._

Hilda had arranged for a feast in the Great Hall after the service, but this time, Cook wasn’t called in to provide the meal, for it was customary among the people of Dale, to bring a dish to share with the others.  It was a tangible sign of their willingness to share the burden of grief.  As Tom the Potter liked to say, “We look after our own.  It was always the ‘Laketown way,’ now it’s the ‘Dale way.’”

The children and their new foster-parents sat at the head table with the Kings and their family.  Turamarth and Ivran also joined them, with Bowen between them, as they tried to get the boy to eat, but he just couldn’t.  Owena had fallen asleep, and was resting on Thranduil’s shoulder, so Anna could eat and help receive the condolences of the Dale folk.  Daffyd had Maddox in his lap, and was snuggling him tight.

Powell, Anna and Daffyd’s son was out circulating among the crowd to thank them for coming, so Bard moved over to take the young man’s seat beside Daffyd.

“I’d like to meet with you and Ben in my office at your earliest convenience.  We need to discuss arrangements for the children’s upbringing.”

“Of course, My Lord.  I can be there tomorrow, first thing in the morning.”

“Sounds good.  Two hours after sunrise, then?”

 

As the crowd was dispersing to return to their lives, they all came to pay courtesy to the Kings and the bereaved family. 

Feren and Glélindë came forward, and Alis ran around the table and gave Maddox a hug, saying, “You can come to our house to play anytime, Mad.  Okay?”

Maddox just leaned against Daffyd’s chest and nodded his head.

“Thank you, young lady,” Anna answered.  “You’re very kind.”

“It’s true,” Glélindë affirmed.  “Anything we can do, please, let us know.  I would like to help you with school clothing for the boys, and I have already made this for the baby.”  She handed Anna a little blue dress for Owena, with a matching hat to protect her from the sun.”

“Oh, isn’t that lovely!”  The woman held it up.  “And just in time, too.  Owena is starting to outgrow what she has, and I’ve no time to help at the Tailor’s or even to work on the kid’s clothes right now.  Thanks, ‘Lindë!”  She leaned over and hugged her former co-worker.  “I don’t know when I can get back to work; I think the kids need me.”

“They do, Anna.   Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks love,” Anna hugged ‘Lindë again.  “Oh, doesn’t she look like a little angel!”

Feren was holding a sleeping Dafina, who had just turned four last week.  Indeed, she looked adorable, with her mass of blonde curls and her dark lashes fanning over her little cheeks. 

 “Please, let us know if there is anything you might need.” Feren told the couple.  “My wife and I will be happy to offer our support.”

After they left, Mistress Bronwyn came over to speak to them.  “School will be starting on the 30th, but I want you to take as much time as you need, Bowen.” She smiled at him kindly.  “I can send work to you, so you won’t fall behind, but I don’t want you to come until you are ready.”

“Thank you.” Bowen said.  “What about Mad?”

“Don’t worry, love.  Anna and I have that worked out, so you just look after you.”  She went over and kissed his cheek.  “I see a lot of your Mam and Da in you.  You’re going to be all right, Bowen.”

Others lined up to say their goodbyes, and at last, the Great Hall was empty, save for the volunteers that stayed for the cleanup.  Sigrid and Rhian were working together and even Tilda was helping to wipe the tables and chairs.

Anna and Daffyd rose with the small children.  “Are you ready?” 

Bowen looked at them with a pleading look, “I… Can I…”

Turamarth interjected, “If I may, Mistress, I would be happy to look after Bowen today, if he is willing.”

“Of course, love.  You go with Tur and stay as long as you need.”  Anna kissed his cheek and stroked his hair.  “Do you need some of his things sent over?”

The Elf nodded his head.  “If Bowen is willing, I think he and Beriel might do well to stay with me again for a short time.” He looked down at the boy, “Is that what you are asking?”

Bowen’s face struggled to stay composed, as he nodded.

“Then that’s settled,” Daffyd agreed.  “Stop over at our place, and you can get some of your things.”

Once the boy and the Elf reached Turamarth’s apartment, they dried off Beriel with several towels, then changed into dry clothes themselves.  Then Bowen went into the spare room, and curled up on a ball on the bed, as Beriel settled around him.

 

***************

  

Bard sighed, when he reached their bedchamber.

Thranduil came to him and held him.  “You did well, _Meleth_.  Mistress Ellyn’s life was celebrated with love today.”

“I’m glad, but I _hate_ funerals.”

“Do not we all, Bard?”  Thranduil kissed his hair.  “Yet, we must remember that she is with her husband and family.  Ellyn died knowing her children would be loved and cared for, which is not something that happened the night of the Fires of Laketown, or even the Battle.”

“Aye.  I suppose that’s one good thing.  Anna told me she made sure the kids wouldn’t see her suffer.  She wanted the last thing they saw of her to be a smile.” Bard looked at Thranduil.  “Did Ermon give her something?”

“It is a common practice among my people to allow a peaceful, dignified death, where there is nothing more to be done.”  Thranduil whispered.  “Ermon was the one who helped Owen, as well.”

“He did?”  Bard looked at his husband’s knowing eyes.  “Perhaps that’s as it should be.  It’s not something we ever did in Laketown, but to be honest, I’ve seen too many writhing in agony, and begging for death till the bitter end.  I don’t see how that could be right, but that’s just my opinion.”

“I do not understand,” the Elf was puzzled.  “Why would they allow this?”

“Oh, it’s meant well.  Some believe it’s murder, no matter what the circumstances.  That’s all right, if that’s what they truly believe, but I just never saw it that way.  I was glad Ellyn asked Ermon to help her, if only for the children’s sake.  She was already so thin and pale…”

“Bard, perhaps your people do not have that custom, because the Battle of the Five Armies was their first experience with war.  Unfortunately, death in battle is not always quick.  We see it as a kind mercy, to ease their way to the Halls of Mandos.  Many of the Healers of Men also practiced this in the War of the Last Alliance.”

“I see your point.  Let’s pray Dale doesn’t see that kind of thing for a long time.”

“My prayer is added to yours.”  Thranduil smiled and stroked Bard’s thick, black curls.  “Where are the children?” 

 “Tauriel is with Rhys and Bain, and Sig and Tilda are still in the Great Hall with Hil and Rhian.”

When Bard received the message informing him of Ellyn’s death, he offered to let the children stay and return with Alun as scheduled, but he was pleased they expressed the desire to go and support their friends.  Rhys had asked to go along, so he was currently sharing Bain’s room, while Alun stayed at the Palace to continue his visit with his mother.

“Where is Darryn?”

“Oh, he’s with his grandad.  I think the girls are going to Rhian’s after they finish helping, and the boys are headed over to see Bowen after a while, if he’s up to it.  I’ve got to get back to work.”

“I wish we could take advantage of our children’s absence.”  The Elvenking smiled sadly.  “Though I must admit, I am not feeling particularly amorous.”

“Me neither, though it’s nice to just hold you.”  Bard snuggled his face in Thranduil’s neck and sighed.  “I wish I could have gone on that picnic with you in the forest.”

“There will be other opportunities.  Your duty was here.”

“I know.”  With a groan, he backed away and left the room.

Thranduil sat on the bed for several moments, deep in thought.  He had always thought the Menfolk, knowing the death was inevitable, had found ways to make peace with it.  Perhaps for those who were leaving the boundaries of Middle earth, it was easier.

When he and Bard presided over the joint funeral of their people after the Battle, he was too stricken with his own grief to take much notice of the people of Dale, he was too busy trying to keep his composure, to be strong for his own people.

But today, when he saw the sad faces of Ellyn’s friends and acquaintances, when he saw the children of Owen and Ellyn in such quiet despair, along with Anna and Daffyd’s tears, he knew the truth:   Death is no easier for Men than for any other race of Free Peoples of Middle Earth, and knowing that death was a natural result of life, did _not_  comfort the hearts of those left behind.

 

***************

**City of Dale, 28 th of August, 2942 T.A.**

The morning after the funeral was a busy one for King Bard.  His first appointment was with Daffyd, so when he arrived, they met with Old Ben and Bard in the conference room. 

“The reason I’ve asked you here, is to ask you about your accommodations above the Livery, Daffyd.  You only have a two-bedroom apartment, and you must be crowded now.”

“Aye, I won’t lie about that,” the man answered.  “We’re a bit on top of each other at the moment, but that isn’t going to stop us from looking after those kids.”

“How is Powell handling it?”

“Oh, he’s given Bowen and wee Mad his room, while the baby stays with us.  He sleeps in the living room on the couch.”

Bard looked at Ben, then back at Daffyd.  “That’s why we wanted to see you.  If you would allow it, I’d like to see about offering you and Anna a house.  It would be my contribution, if you would allow it.  The extra costs of keeping it up would also be covered by Ellyn’s pension from Owen’s death, plus your profits from your business.”

Ben unrolled some plans on the table.  “If you see here, there’s something not too far from the business, and it has three bedrooms plus a larger living area.  It has a yard so the children could play, and for a garden if Anna wishes it.”

“Oh, My Lord; I don’t know if I can accept –“

Bard raised his hand, to speak.  “I understand your pride, but just hear me out.  The way I see it, Powell’s what?  Nineteen now?”

“Just turned twenty last week, My Lord.”

Ben shook his head.  “My lands…  I remember when you and Anna first had him!  You make me feel old...”

“Aye; they grow fast, don’t they?” the man agreed.  

“So,” Bard continued.  “Why not give the apartment over to him?  He’ll be able to keep an eye on your business at night, and you and the kids can live a lot more comfortably.”

“But I can’t let you buy us a house, My Lord!”

“I wouldn’t be.” Bard smiled.  “At least not all of it.  Another reason I wanted to see you, was to tell you that some of the folk in Dale set up a fund to help you and Anna out.  Hilda set it up with Alun and Evan, and it’s called the ‘Widows and Orphans Fund.’”

“The _what?”_

“You heard me.  Seems everybody wanted to pitch in, and there’s enough now that can help us get you this house, plus there’s plenty more to help others in need.  It’s the ‘Dale way,’ like Tom says.  It’s keeping up the tradition we had in Laketown, to look after each other, and I’m glad of it.  Either way, the house is yours.”

“Well…  thank you, My Lord.”  Daffyd was bewildered.  “The missus will be pleased, when I tell her.”  He stood up, and paid his courtesy and left.

 

Bard’s next meeting was with Tom the Potter.

“Tom, I haven’t had a chance to tell you how much I appreciate your help with the man who was abusing his wife in the Market last month.”

“Oh, you mean Artie?  Is he still at the Ice House?”

“Yes, for now, and I’ve got Thranduil’s guards watching him, until we can settle the matter when I hold Court in September.  I kept him there on purpose to give him a chance to dry out, and get sober, and also to give his wife a chance to get out from underneath his thumb.”

“That’s good.  I don’t know the girl well, but my wife knows her Mam.”

“Hannah’s been talking to Filomena, and she even took her to see Rhian, which I think did both of them a world of good.” Bard grinned.  “Which seemed to work, because Filomena’s left him for good, and I don’t blame her.  I’ve issued a bill of divorcement, so she is free to live her life.”

“Aye, I’ve heard, and bless you for it.”

Bard leaned forward. “Tom, you’re an honest man who believes in doing the right thing, and you made a statement that day that resonated with me.  It _is_ time we started to look after our own affairs, and not depend upon the Elves quite so much.  We’re going to need them for some time to come to help defend the city, but we need to start governing ourselves, and that, Tom, is where you come in.” Bard grinned. 

“Here’s the thing: we’ve finished the Jail, and more to the point, the Constable’s office.  All we need now, is a Constable.” The King of Dale raised his eyebrows at the man.

“Me? Why would you want _me_ for the job?”

“Because I have known you all my life.  You were friends with my Da when he was alive, and he and Percy always respected you.  When I smuggled in supplies for our folk, it you helped distribute it to those who needed it, which shows your regard for our people. You were also good in Battle; you’re a strong and intimidating man when you need to be, but you’re honest and fair, and don’t lose your head easily.”

“But what about my business, My Lord?”

“Well, things have slowed, haven’t they?  Once the first rush to get settled was over, there isn’t such a scramble anymore.”

“You’re right about things calming down...” Tom rubbed his chin.

“Your younger boys could keep up with orders and your wife could run the business.” Bard suggested.  I was impressed with Egon when he and your other boys brought Artie before me, and I was hoping to have him work with you.  The pay would be good, and of course, you’d have some Elves to help, but _you,”_ he pointed at the Potter, “would be the one in charge.”

“But…  I don’t know all the ins and outs of the law here, My Lord!  I’d be flying by the seat of my pants!”

That statement was met with a hearty laugh.  “What do you think I’m doing?  In any case, you have a good sense of what’s appropriate, and for now, I trust your judgement.  As far as written laws, I’ve got some books from Lord Thranduil’s library from Old Dale, and I read them over the winter.”  Bard indicated three books sitting on the table.

“Your main job would be to settle disputes, and jail offenders when necessary, and I’ll do the rest.  I trust your judgement of course, but I want to put some checks and balances in place.”

Tom sat back.  “Where exactly is this jail?  I haven’t seen it?”

“Oh, it’s in another part of the Castle.  I didn’t want to use the dungeons, because some of it caved in, when the Dragon sacked the place.  Eventually, I’ll get them repaired, because I’m afraid, as more people come to live here, we may need them, but for now, the Dwarves finished a place over there that’s secure,” Bard pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.  “The entrance is along the south side of the building.  The main thing,” he became very serious, “we can’t afford to be bringing offenders through the Great Hall, so close to my family and the people who work here.”

“You’re right about that; I hated to do it –“

“But you had no choice, I understand.  Don’t worry about that.  So,” Bard sat back in his chair, “what do you think?”

“I’ll have to talk to my wife of course, and to Egon, but I think you’ve got a deal.”

“Excellent!”  Bard stood and held out his hand.  “I’ll get Alun to work up a salary schedule and so forth, and we can get things set up for three weeks from now.  For the most part, you and Egon could take turns in the office, the others can be walking the streets to keep your presence known.  As time goes on, I’ll be hiring more, but for now, you’ll have Egon, if he agrees, and Feren can instruct the Elves who currently guard the streets to answer to you.

“Here,” he handed Tom the books.  “In the meantime, get yourself familiar with the basics.  I’ve included a list of changes that I want to make, but they honestly aren’t much.”

“That’ll be grand, My Lord.”  Tom bowed and took the books.  “I’ll let you know what my wife and son says, but I’m sure they’ll agree to it.  Thank you.”

“I hope you’ll still want to thank me later.” Bard wasn’t kidding.

 

***************

**Morning, City of Dale, 30 th of August, 2942, T.A.**

The very first day of School in new Dale was about to begin.  Though the children had some classes at the Palace last winter, this was _different,_ according to Tilda, who chattered nonstop with excitement, at the idea of a “real” school.

 

 

> ~o0o~
> 
> “I’ll be just like the big kids!” she said, one evening about a week before classes started.
> 
> “Why do you think the school at the Palace was not real, _Tithen Pen_?” he asked when she crawled into his lap.
> 
> “Because it just wasn’t, _Ada_.  It was fun, and everything, but this will _be sooo much better,_ because we get to go to a _real school building_ in a _whole other place,_ and I get to stay there alllll day!”
> 
> This notion did not delight Thranduil at all.  “But I shall miss you, _hênig_ ,” he frowned.  “What will I do without you?”
> 
> _“Wellll,”_ Tilda pondered this dilemma, “Da can keep you company, and if you need something to do, just ask Auntie Hil.  But,” she warned, “don’t ever tell her you’re bored, or she’ll make you work!”
> 
> Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bard’s grin, before he buried his nose in his book. Hilda bit her lower lip to keep from laughing.  Tauriel looked over at the two of them affectionately, as she and Bain worked on their woodcarvings, under Percy’s tutelage.
> 
> Sigrid didn’t even try to hold it in.  She just laughed outright and said, “You got that right; last time I complained about being bored, I found myself scrubbing the floors and the baseboards of our house!”
> 
> “Thank you for the warning,” Thranduil told her seriously. 
> 
> As in the Woodland Realm, her teacher would be Miss Eryn, which was a relief to everybody.   She knew of Tilda’s difficulties and had come to the Castle a few days ago to talk to the family.  The little girl was immensely relieved to know Esta would be allowed to accompany her, to help keep Tilda from getting too tense, and would alert the teachers should the dog notice any change in her heart or lungs.
> 
> It had been decided (by Thranduil) that her parents would walk her school every day, along with her Guard.
> 
> Tilda, however, had a different opinion. “But I’m not a baby!  The other kids won’t have all that, will they?”
> 
> “I’m afraid you must have the Guard, Little Bean,” Bard said, “so that’s not negotiable.”
> 
> “What’s ‘negotiable?’”
> 
> “It means, you’re having a Guard, and that’s that.  You’re lucky _Ada_ won’t be standing outside all day waiting for you.” Bard teased.
> 
> "No," Bain snorted.  "He'll be sitting beside her in class all day."    
> 
> "You wouldn't!" Tilda looked at him.  "Da?"
> 
> "No, _Ada_ will not.  Don't tease, Bain." Bard said.  "And Sigrid, stop rolling your eyes.  Of course _Ada_ knows he won't be allowed to do that."
> 
> “Well, why do you both have to take me?”  she looked at them sourly.  “You won’t take Sigrid and Bain!”
> 
> In the end, a compromise was made.  If she _had_ to have a guard, then only one parent at a time, was permitted to walk with her.
> 
> This would be Thranduil, whenever possible.  (That wasn’t _exactly_ a compromise, but the Elf pouted and sighed so much, the Bowman gave in.)
> 
> ~o0o~

On the morning of the 30th, there was a both a rush of excitement (from the girls) and dread (from Bain).  The older ones were kissed, handed their lunch, and sent off with Tauriel to head for the school for the older kids near the center of the City.   It had taken Bard a while to convince Thranduil that they _would not_ appreciate _Ada_ walking them - the Guards would be bad enough. 

A half-hour later, it was time for Tilda to go, and her family crowded around her.

“Bye, Beanie!” Percy said.  “Have a good time!”

“I will! Bye, Auntie Hil!” 

The woman smiled and kissed both her cheeks.  “Do you need a sweater?  Maybe I should get –“

“Come on, love,” Percy put his arm around his wife. “She’ll be fine.  It’s plenty warm already.”

But Hilda wasn’t done fussing.  She made Tilda turn around and smoothed down her dress, then handed her a small pail with a lid.  “Here’s your lunch.  It’s your favorite sandwich and an apple.  There are two cookies in there, but save those for snack time, all right?  I’ll see you this afternoon, lovey.  You be good now.” 

 “I will.” Tilda nodded, then held up her arms for Bard.  “Bye, Da!  Don’t miss me too much!”

"I'll try." Bard picked her up and hugged her. “You’re such a big girl. Pretty soon you’re going to be smarter than me!” He kissed her, then put her back down with a pat on her rump.  “Go on with _Ada_ , love.”

So, the tall Elvenking, the petite Princess, and their guard (Ruvyn, who had changed shifts to accompany them this first day) made their way through the streets to the her little school nearby. 

Thranduil had hold of her hand, and it was hard to tell who was more nervous: Tilda, who would be left at school, or the Elvenking, who was going to leave her there.

“Now remember, _Tithen Pen_ ,” Thranduil reminded her, as they walked along.  “You must not run or get too excited, and if you feel tired, or if your left arm or leg begins to feel funny, you must tell Miss Eryn.”

“You said that three times, _Ada_.” Tilda frowned.  “You’re making me nervous.”

“I am sorry.  I do not mean to; I simply want to make sure you are well.”

“But I’m _already_ so different!  I just want to be like everybody else!”

Thranduil stopped and stooped down to look her in the eye.  “No, my little love.  Do not wish that.  You are an extraordinary child just the way you are.”

“But I can’t do stuff!” she whined. 

“For now, you cannot,” Thranduil reminded her patiently.

“But I need to do it _now!”_

“Yet, you must be patient.  I shall strike a bargain with you.”

“What’s that?”

“A bargain is an agreement,” the Elvenking explained. 

“Oh.  Like a deal?”

“Precisely. If you bear these restrictions graciously, I shall tell you a story tonight at bedtime.”

“You always tell me a story, _Ada_ ,” Tilda rolled her eyes.

“Oh, but this one I think you will like.  You see, you are not the first person who rebelled against a Healer’s instructions.  I could tell you of two more, and you may find their story rather funny.”

“Why?”

 “Because they acted much _much_ worse than you do.”[1]

“Who are they?”

“You will find out, if you do what Daeron says.” He smiled down at her.  “Are we agreed?”

Tilda considered.  “Okay,” she squeezed his hand.  “It’s a deal!”

Soon they reached the steps of her small school, where Miss Eryn was waiting on the steps with a smile.  “Good morning, My Lord,” she curtsied, “and are you ready to start, Lady Tilda?”

“Please,” the Elvenking requested with a smile.  “Let us drop the titles in class.  She is your pupil and she will simply be Tilda.”

“Of course, My Lord.  I agree that will be better.  And here is Esta!  Are you ready to help us today?”

The black-and-white dog wagged her tail eagerly and barked a few times, making the teacher laugh. 

“Is everybody here yet?”

“Yes.”  The teacher smiled down at Tilda.  “Are you ready to go in?”

“Uh huh!” Tilda eagerly rushed inside, leaving her poor _Ada_ a bit wide-eyed and bewildered.

“Ooh!  I forgot!” she rushed back out to him and give him a quick hug.  “Bye, _Ada!”_  and with a wave, she disappeared again.

Miss Eryn had to hide her smile. “Don’t worry, My Lord,” she reassured him.  “We’ll take good care of her, and I promise: if there are any problems, we’ll send for you at once.”

“I thank you,” Thranduil nodded, then turned to Ruvyn, and told him in Sindarin, _“De sîr meriathodh a tiro_ _hîn; daro ar_ _adab.”_

 _“Ben iest dhîn,_ _Aran nîn_.”  The Guard saluted, and took his place next to the steps.

Miss Eryn was skeptical.  “I am sure she will be safe, My Lord…”

“I do not doubt your abilities, Miss Eryn.  As much as Lord Bard and I want Tilda to be treated normally, we cannot escape the fact that she is the daughter of two Kings, and must be under guard at all times.”

“Of course, My Lord.”  She smiled patiently at Thranduil, then went inside and shut the door.

Thranduil heaved a sigh, then walked home and went to Bard’s study.

Bard greeted him with his arms crossed and a knowing grin.  “Well?  How did it go, _Ada_?”

“It was… difficult.” Thranduil said, as he schlumped into a chair.  “I felt like…”

“…you were losing her, a little bit?  Like she was growing up too fast and won’t be our little girl for much longer?  Like time is slipping through your fingers and you can’t stop it?”

“Please do not tease me, Bard,” Thranduil pouted at him.

“Oh, I’m not teasing, love.”  Bard got up and put his arms around the Elf.  “I’m only telling you how I felt when I had to leave her at the Palace with you.  It’s the same with Sigrid and Bain.  I’m excited for them, but every step like this reminds me we won’t have them forever.”  He gave the Elvenking a sad smile.  “The whole idea of parenting is to work yourself out of a job.  They’ll be grown with their own lives before we know it.”

“I hate it.”  Thranduil looked up at his husband with a frown.  “Human children grow up entirely too fast.”

Thranduil felt Bard kiss his hair.  “I know, love.  But having the kids gone all day does have its advantages...” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Such as?”

Bard pulled him up to stand, and between kisses said, “Such as taking the morning off, to 'console' each other?  Galion has cleared your schedule, and I’ve given instructions that we are not to be disturbed...”

Thranduil said nothing, but grabbed Bard’s hand, dragged him back into the bedchamber, and locked the door.

*******************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 8 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

Daeron walked among the trees of the forest with his father, Adamar, enjoying the feel of the grass beneath their bare feet. 

“I am glad to spend some time with you before you go, _Ion nîn_.  Your mother worries about you, although,” Adamar smiled and shrugged, “I suppose that is what _naneths_ do, no matter how old their children are.  To be honest, I am concerned, as well.”

“I know, _Ada_.”  Daeron sighed.  “I do not know what the future holds for me, but I am thinking that no matter what happens, there will be sadness.”

“Why do you say this?”  His father asked.

“If Rhian marries another, I do not think I will return to Dale, and I would probably sail.  As much as I love Dale and our home, I could not bear to see her make a life with another.”

“I know how you were when Sellwen was killed, along with her mother.  It is a wonder you did not sail then.”

“I sometimes think I should have, but something…” Daeron shook himself.  “No, it was right that I stayed.  But I cannot bear a sundering a second time.  I know it.”  Daeron looked at his father.  “If Rhian gives me some indication that we could be together, then I would be the happiest Elf in Middle Earth, but,” and he looked at his father sadly, “that would also mean I would not join you and _Nana_ in Valinor.  Either way, I will be permanently apart from those I care about.  It’s a terrible choice, but I cannot change who I am.”

“I would never want you to change, Daeron.  It would break your mother’s heart to be without you,” Adamar admitted, “but we support you, no matter what you decide.  At least we have the consolation of Eärendil’s blessing,[2] and know you could still live a long life here, as would Rhian, and the children of your union.”

Adamar put his hand on Daeron’s shoulder.  _“Ion,_ I would rather see you live a short and happy life, than to spend an eternity in Valinor wishing things had been different.”

“Thank you, _Ada_.”

 “Let us not dwell on such things; since we do not yet know what your future holds, focus on what’s in front of you.”  His father continued his counsel.  “Go to Lothlórien and discover the meaning behind the Lady Galadriel’s riddle.  More important, _serve our King_ by serving the Lord and Lady, for in this way, you will do right by yourself.” Adamar put his arms around his son.  _“N'uir thiad gîn 'ell,_ _Ionneg_.”

 

**The Woodland Realm, 10 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

Thranduil had been at his Palace for nearly a week now, and would remain for at least a week more.  The Wardens would be coming from the Golden Wood in two days, to spend a week at the Palace, before he bid his unit farewell, then led the Galadhrim to Dale.

It was mid-afternoon, and Thranduil had been meeting for most of the day with his Council, and after accomplishing everything on the agenda for the month, he had broached a rather delicate, yet important subject:

>  “Lords and Ladies of the Council,” he said with a bow.  “I would like to seek your approval for a pardon for my adopted-daughter, Tauriel Neldor-Thranduilliel.[3]   It has become increasingly clear to me that her actions before and during the Battle were the catalyst for much of the good that we all benefit from now.  I once saw her actions as treasonous, but now I see they were done out of instincts that I shared, but refused to heed.  She also acted out of desperation, not just for her Dwarven friends, but on Dale’s and my own behalf.”
> 
>  Lady Emëldir, the Head of the Council tilted her head slightly. “Please explain, My Lord.”
> 
> “Certainly.  I no longer believe Tauriel betrayed me.  In fact, I have come to believe that she knew if I were to abandon those Men and Dwarves to certain death, all hope of my own recovery from grief would be lost.”
> 
> “But,” another Elf wondered, “how could she have known about you and Lord Bard then?”
> 
> “You misunderstand me,” Thranduil answered. “Of course, Tauriel could not have known what the future held for myself and my husband.  What I am saying is, and I believe this to be true, if I had followed through with my command to leave, even if Lord Bard had lived, I would have damaged myself to the point of no return, no matter who was destined for me.”
> 
> Thranduil swallowed, and took in a deep breath.  This was still a difficult subject for him, but he was determined.  “At that moment, she held an arrow to my face and said, ‘there is no love in you,’ and she was correct, for within seconds, I held a blade to the throat of my own child.
> 
> “I am not saying what she did was right, but in the heat of the moment, she risked her life to not only save these people, but she also wanted to save me from myself.”
> 
> Feren stood up and bowed.  “My Lords and Ladies, I would like to second my King’s request.  Make no mistake: I do not sanction _anyone_ holding a weapon to our King, and I still believe the banishment was an appropriate punishment, but I have since come to believe that it need not be permanent.”
> 
> “What does the _Brennil Tauriel_ say about this matter?” Emëldir asked.
> 
> “She is unaware of our intentions here.” Thranduil shook his head.  “If she were, I believe she would try to talk me out of it.  My daughter is of the opinion that a light sentence would not serve as a deterrent for others who would wish to do me bodily harm.”
> 
> “That is true,” Feren added.  “She is keen to take responsibility for her actions, but she is more concerned for her father’s safety, which speaks to her quality.  Yet, we are blessed with a King who is counted among the best Warriors of Middle Earth and is well-protected at all times.”
> 
> “In any case,” Thranduil continued, “this is just as much a personal family matter as it is a legal matter, and I would like to ask this Council to take that into consideration.  Though I have the power to do this without your consent, I would rather you all support me in this decision.”
> 
> After much discussion, a compromised was reached.  Regardless of the affection they all held for Tauriel, they could not in any way pardon what they still believed to be an act of treason.  One simply could not overlook the fact that she raised a weapon to their King.
> 
> The final decision was this: rather than a pardon, the banishment would not be permanent, and ten years after the incident, Tauriel Neldor-Thranduilliel would once again be permitted in the Palace.

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_N'uir thiad gîn 'ell,_ _Ionneg_ – Ever is your presence a joy, my dear boy.

 _De sîr meriathodh a tiro_ _hîn; daro ar_ _adab._   _–_ Please guard her and all the children today, stay outside of building.

 _Ben iest dhîn,_ _Aran Nîn_ – As you wish, My King

 _Brennil Tauriel_ – Lady Tauriel

 

**NOTES:**

[1] Thranduil wasn’t kidding.  See “And Winter Came,” CH 37.

 

[2] Adamar and Daeron speak of Eärendil’s blessing, which occurred in “What Makes a King,” CH 22, and was _finally_ explained in “And Winter Came,” CH 40.

 

[3] Tauriel’s formal name is Tauriel Neldor-Thranduilliel.  Her birth father’s name was Neldor, and as a courtesy to him, the Elvenking wanted to include it when he adopted her.  Because she is a female the suffix “-iel” is added to her father’s name, as opposed to a son, who would add “-ion,” e.g. “Legolas Thranduillion.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil has been working in the Woodland Realm, waiting for their guests from Lothlórien to arrive. They bring a gift and some unexpected news.
> 
> In the meantime, Turamarth is still keeping a close eye on Bowen, who has not done well since his mother’s funeral.  He has two friends in mind who might be able to help.
> 
> Daeron says goodbye to his family, and begins the adventure of a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, the list of Characters in CH 4 is updated as much as possible, so if you get confused, it’s there for you.

 

 

“Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow.”

** ― J.M. Barrie, The Little Minister **

 

**The Woodland Realm, 12 th of September, 2942, T.A.**

Galion knocked on the doorway of their adjoining offices.

“My Lord, Captain Adamar reports that the party from the Golden Wood are here.”

“Thank you, Galion.”  The Elvenking finished the paper he was working on, then got up to go into his chambers to get dressed.

 

Soon, the the Elvenking was seated on his high throne, dressed his formal robes of gold, holding his scepter made from a tree that grew in Elu Thingol’s kingdom; the sapling had been brought from Thingol’s birthplace of Valinor.  Thranduil wore his tall, formal crown as well, but the small flowers that had adorned it had been removed and replaced with small greenery.

All members of his Council were present, in their formal robes, and circlets with gems upon their brows.  They were seated on cushioned chairs along the one side of the room.  As befitting her station, Lady Emëldir’s seat was more ornate, and her circlet sported small white gems on her brow.    Galion was stationed at the foot of the steps of his throne, ready to assist, as always. He was wearing robes of dark green and his circlet was plain, like the Councilmembers.

On the other side of the room, Daeron stood at attention, with his five Elves.

“Are we ready?” the Elvenking asked those present in the room.

“Yes, My Lord,” Galion said, and indicated to the Guard to open the doors.

 Captain Adamar entered and bowed formally, “Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm,” “It is my honor to present Rúmil, son of Halfar, Warden of Lothlórien, and his party.”

With helmets in hand, the six Wardens of the Galadhrim marched in single file, and stood before him, and they were an impressive sight, indeed.  These Silvan Elves, were all very tall, and blonde.  They were dressed in their full armor, which was slightly different than that of the Woodland Realm: golden in color, and the leather was dyed crimson.  All the Galadhrim wore cloaks of dark grey, though Rúmil’s was lined in the same shade of crimson as his uniform.  Two of the others had had been lined in dark blue, and the others, both Ellyths, had linings of purple.

 _“Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín Miui Rúmil Halfarion.”_ Thranduil gave his formal greetings.  “ _Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn”_

 _“De vilui, Aran Thranduil Oropherion.”_ Rúmil bowed, put his hand to his heart, and gave him a formal Elven salute.“We are grateful for this opportunity, My Lord.  It is a privilege to learn more of this part of Middle Earth and the unique and varied cultures of the Northern Kingdoms.”

Thranduil smiled.  “I thank you.”

“I bring you greetings from the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood.   May I also present a gift, sent by my Lord to his beloved cousin, to celebrate the occasion of his marriage.” Rúmil signaled for one of his Elves to come forward, and took the small chest he was carrying.  The Warden handed it to Adamar, who gave it to Galion, who then brought up the steps to him.  Inside were two oval clasps, one in gold, and one in silver.  The gold, was engraved with the entwined monograms of Bard and Thranduil in Westron, and the silver was done in the same, in Tengwar.

“These are exquisite, Warden.  My husband and I will be honored to wear these, and I will be sure to send my thanks with Lieutenant Daeron when he leaves.”

The Warden stepped back and swept his arm out: “May I present the rest of my party to your Royal Highness?”

Thranduil stood, gave the box back to Galion, then descended from his throne.  “Please, do so.” 

As the first Elf in line stepped forward, and saluted, Rúmil said, “This is my second-in-command, Gerion, son of Gilfan.”

 _“Dhe nathlof hi, Beriamín Edwen Gareth Gilfanion,”_ Thranduil smiled and nodded, then offered the same personal welcome to the other Elves: The Elves with the blue-lined cloaks were Lórien Warriors: Eriol, son of Auredhir and Lindo, son of Langon.  The Ellyths purple were two of Lothlórien’s famed Archers: Cwën, daughter of Saeros, and Amaren, daughter of Amandil.

Their guests were introduced to the Council Members, then Daeron and his group stepped forward and saluted, then clasped arms with Rúmil.

“I am Daeron, son of Adamar; Lieutenant and Guardian of the Woodland Realm.  I bid you welcome.”

“I have heard much about you, Daeron.  It is pleasure to meet you.” 

“As I have you, Rúmil.  These are the members of my unit: My second, Lieutenant Elion, son of Gwaldor.”

Elion stepped forward, saluted and said, _“Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín _Miui_ Rúmil.”_

 _“Mae de 'ovannen, Tiriamín Edwen _Elion._ ”_ Rúmil clasped his forearm.

As each Guardan stepped forward, Daeron introduced them.  "These are the brothers Amrol and Hadien, sons of Bior; and the Woodland Archers were Eilinel, daughter of Indor; and, Amras, son of Ranuin.”

 

Once the greetings were exchanged, they all went to the Main Dining Hall for the Welcome Feast, in which there was music and dancing. 

From their table up on the dais, Thranduil told the Warden, “I look forward to showing my husband the gifts from the Lord and Lady.  Your smiths are talented.”

“They are, to be sure.  I am glad you like them, though I suspect,” Rúmil smiled and leaned toward him, “you will find another gift underneath.  My Lord Celeborn instructed me to tell you it is a personal and private message, My King.”

Thranduil’s brows lifted in surprise.  “I look forward to reading what my cousin has to say.”

“So,” the Elvenking changed the subject and refilled Rúmil’s cup, “You had no unpleasant encounters on your journey?  How long did it take you?”

“Our journey was free from peril.  I am grateful, but not too surprised.  Between the Battle of the Five Armies, and the White Council’s efforts at Dol Guldur last winter, the danger has greatly decreased.”

“I am glad to hear it.  I am told you had quite a reaction to the state of my forest, Warden.”

The Elf looked uncomfortable.  “I do not mean to disparage your Kingdom, My Lord –“

“Oh, no, please.  I was not trying to confront you; I would like to hear your honest thoughts.  The messengers from your land are always diplomatic, of course, but I need to know the perspective from an outsider.”

The Warden sat back and sipped.  “I actually have a great respect for the parts of the forest you managed to preserve, considering who had taken up residence in Dol Guldur.  Unfortunately, no one was aware of that until just last year, My Lord…”

“I understand.”  Thranduil smiled.  “Go on.”

Rúmil considered his words.  “Until recently, my brother Haldir had been the only one of us to travel outside our borders, but even that was many years after the War of the Last Alliance.  He and our father accompanied King Amdir and King Oropher when they went south, and like you, few returned.

“Of that time, my brother would only say that all that time in the presence of the Dark Lord himself, even for just seven years, marked our father forever.”  Rúmil lowered his eyes.  “He was killed shortly after I was born, in a skirmish with some Orcs from Dol Guldur.  My mother had to sail, for her sorrow was too great.”

“I am sorry, _Mellon_.” Thranduil commiserated.  “I remember your father well, Rúmil, and was deeply saddened to hear of his death.  I also lost my beloved father in Dagorlad, and was forced to accompany my mother to the Havens.”

The Warden met his eyes.  “I have been told thus; I am truly sorry for your loss.” Rúmil bowed and saluted respectfully.  “I also know you single-handedly saved your Army when the Firedrake came.  For that alone, you have my respect and admiration.” 

“Please,” The Elvenking lifted his hand to stop him.  “I appreciate your sentiments, but it is only recently that I have been able to speak of such things.”

The Warden looked chagrined, then he said, “I would like to take this opportunity to offer another apology, My Lord.”

“For what offense, may I ask?”

“I will admit, I joined in the jokes when Lord Celeborn renamed your land ‘Mirkwood,’ though I know he deeply regrets that, he said it out of frustration at the evil, not as a slur upon you or your abilities, My Lord.”

Thranduil winced.  “Go on,” he encouraged.

“I admit, in my foolish ignorance of youth, I saw the sickness in your forest as a failing, and used it as an excuse to feel superior.  Our lands have remained healthy and well-preserved, and it is easy to take that for granted.  When Lord Elrond brought our Lady back to Lothlórien in such a weakened state, when we all learned the _true_ _source_ of the evil,” the Warden’s eyes fell, “I was humbled and ashamed of arrogance.  I am glad to say we all were.” Rúmil bowed his head.  “I would like to ask forgiveness, My Lord, on behalf of myself and all others who thought differently about you, and the Greenwood.”

“I accept your apology, Warden,” Thranduil nodded.  “Though I prefer these days to call it the Woodland Realm.  My forest is very ill, so to call it ‘Greenwood’ also seems a mockery, as my lands suffer so much.”

Then he changed the subject.  “How is your Lady?”

“She remains weakened, though Eärendil’s Blessing did much to heal her.  Lord Elrond spent the winter nursing her, and said she will regain her strength in several decades.  If not for the Blessing, it would have been longer.”

“That is indeed good news.  We were witness to that miraculous event, for it was during the funeral services for those who fell in the Battle.”  Thranduil sighed.  “So many had perished…. Yet I cannot help but rejoice, for not only did this Blessing help Lady Galadriel, it help to heal the much of our grief.  As I am sure you are aware, it changed other things, as well.”

“I am, though I find it astounding!  These things do do affect my people so much, as we are still rather isolated, but I am sure for the North, whose races and cultures interact a great deal, it makes sense.”

“The attitude among my people have greatly changed as well.  How you and your people have managed to thrive, despite living right next to Dol Guldur for so many centuries, I simply cannot fathom!”  Rúmil’s arm swept out and gestured toward the Elves in the Dining Hall. 

The Elves of the Woodland Realm were enjoying themselves this evening, and were laughing, talking and merrily dancing to the music. 

“Your Guardians,” Rúmil marveled, “go out, on a daily basis, to face the spiders, and other vile creatures, that have infested your lands, yet still live in hope that it may be restored one day.  Do they do not appear downtrodden, or affected!  This is astounding, and something to be very proud of, My Lord!”

“Thank you.” Thranduil nodded.  “I am immensely proud of my Guardians and my Army, and I respect your candor.” 

“By comparison, the Wardens have it easier,” Rúmil continued to shake his head in amazement.  We mostly _protect_ the borders from outsiders, and we find great comfort in the beauty of our land.”  Rúmil told him sincerely.  “I cannot be happy to see such sickness, and you have my condolences, but my awe for you and your Guardians is immense.  Your love for the Realm is steadfast and true, not easily extinguished.  I see that much of that is because of your own force of will.”

Thranduil just smiled, drank his wine, and quietly forgave the Warden for his ignorance.[1]  “I appreciate the compliment, Warden.  I hope, besides learning and gaining experience, you find time to enjoy yourself.  I find the people of Dale to be delightful.”  He smiled, “Though I must admit to some partiality.”

“May I offer personal congratulations upon your marriage?  I am told Lord Bard has three children of his own.”

“He does, and I have grown to love them as my own.  Tauriel is charged with their safety, but she cherishes them as much as I do, as their sister.”

Rúmil’s face was inscrutable, and he didn’t mention Legolas, which confirmed his suspicion that the Lord and Lady weren’t ignorant of his troubles with his son.  

He changed the subject.  “I have met your brother Haldir several times, though not in several centuries.  How is he?”

“He is well, though worried for our Lady.  We had a very busy winter.  After Dol Guldur was cleared, many of the Orcs came our way, but you will be happy to know we exterminated them.  I think most of them were remnants from the Battle.”

“I am sorry so many got away.” Thranduil said, sincerely.

The Warden shrugged.  "It was an easy task, My Lord.   They were leaderless, desperate and confused.  We still see them, but their numbers have been greatly reduced and are easily dealt with – for now, at least.”

Thranduil nodded his head.  “These are much like the reports from my Guardians.  We did have some difficulty when we were returning the mothers and children to Dale in May.”

Rúmil’s eyes widened.  “Was anyone harmed?”

“Just one of my Guardians; a cousin to Daeron.  He is now fully recovered.”  Thranduil then told the Warden of the joint-effort between the Elves and Dwarves to get the children home safely, and the details of the skirmish, as it was related to him.  Rúmil was particularly interested in hearing about the cooperation between the Dwarves and Elves. 

“You will see for yourself soon. To be frank, I hope you and your Wardens learn as I have since the day of the Battle.  It was a turning point for me and my people, and a chance to change things and prepare for what will come.”

Then he gave the Warden a solemn look.  “Make no mistake, Warden:  My heart tells me that Dol Guldur will not remain abandoned and we all must remain vigilant.  I have not reduced my Guards around my villages or in that area, and Radagast agrees that the trees must remain sleeping.”

“The Lord and Lady say the same.  Still,” Rúmil raised his goblet, “let us enjoy the short respite of our hard labors, while we may.”

 

Once the Wardens were settled and the day was done, the Elvenking went to his chambers.

How many centuries had he lived here alone, and was comfortable?  Yet, after only months, it seemed cold and empty without the voices of his family, and these room were now filled with the absence of their presence.   Galion had expressed that same sentiment a week ago, as they were eating breakfast, when he said quiet he had once enjoyed he now found nearly unendurable. 

And after his bath he crawled into bed and opened the box from Celeborn once more, and lifted them out, along with its velvet lining. As he suspected, there was a false bottom and after some careful maneuvering, he found a letter sealed in silver wax, bearing Celeborn’s seal.

He settled back against the pillows, and opened his letter from his cousin, done in his sloping, artistic hand.

After he read a few sentences, he gasped, then dropped the paper and covered his eyes.

> _“Thranduil_ (it said),
> 
> _I will save the formalities for another time, my dearest cousin, as I have news you will be most anxious to hear:_
> 
> _Legolas, accompanied the small band of Dúnedain that came to visit in June, and I am happy to report he looked well and fit…_

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 15 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

Shortly after Anna and Daffyd had moved their now-larger family into their new home, Turamarth had come by to visit. 

It was a Saturday, so there was no school, and Maddox was happy to see him.   With a grin, the Elf allowed the little boy to pull him around the house and show him everything.

“See?  The kitchen is big, and so is the living room!  Look!”

“I am impressed, Mad.”  He squatted down to eye-level.  “Do you like school?”

“Uh-huh!  Tilda’s in my class, just like before!  So is Alis and I have a new friend named Liam!  He’s my best friend now!”

“Oh, really?  Was he at the Palace?  Did you know him there?”

“Nuh-uh.  He and his Da came from Dowinin.”

“You mean, Dorwinian?”

“Uh huh.  Wanna see my schoolwork?”

So, Mad grabbed Tur by the hand again and dragged him to the room he shared with Bowen, where several drawings and paintings were posted.  “I can write my letters, and see?  And all the numbers!  I can even read a little bit!”

“That is wonderful!” he tousled the boy’s hair.  “Do you mind if I visit with your brother a little bit?”  Turamarth noticed Bowen’s bed, though made neatly was empty.

“Sure.  I gotta go to Liam’s house.  He only lives two doors away!”  And he was off.

The Elf smiled after him and went to speak with Anna, who was giving Owena a bottle.  “How are they?”

“Oh, the little ones adjusted well, of course.  Maddie still cries some for his Mam, but school’s been a big distraction.  He started a bit later – about a week into it – but he’s cheered up since he made friends with the boy down the street.

“How is Bowen?”

“Ah.  Well, that’s another story.  He’s due to start school on Monday, and I think it’s time; it’s not good for him to be idle too long.  He needs to start getting on with things.” 

“I agree.” The Elf said.  “He is ready, whether he believes it or not.”

The woman finished the milk, then rubbed Owena’s back to get a bit of a burp from her. “Still, I know how he feels - we’ve all been adjusting.  As much as we needed a bigger space, it’s still hard to move.” She laughed wryly.  “Seems all we’ve done in the last year is move.  You’d think I’d be used to it: first from Laketown into tents, then tents to the Palace, the Palace to the Livery then the Livery to here!”

“Hopefully you will be settled for a long time, after this.”

“I really shouldn’t complain; folks were bending over backwards to help us – I hardly had to do a thing, except hold the baby and tell everyone where things go.  They brought everything from Ellyn’s apartment, and the children have their beds.  Ellyn’s old bed is set up in Owena’s room for later, though she still stays in a crib in our room.”

“Where are the rest of her things?”

“Some of her clothes we gave away, but her nicer things are in a trunk, along with her jewelry, for when the children get older.”

Owena grinned up at the Elf and held her arms out, so Turamarth held her.  “I can see why my cousin is so enamored with Darryn…  She is enchanting.” He ran his fingers through her fine blond hair and looked into her blue eyes.  “Tell me; how is Bowen today?”

“He loves us, I do know that, but he’s so… _shut down_.  He’s hiding in himself, that’s what it is.  Daffyd’s been a dear and taking the boy with him when he works the carriages, just to get him out.  Powell does, too.”

“Actually Mistress, that is why I am here, as well.  May I take Bowen for the day?”

“Course you can.  Daffyd told me all about your plans.”  She stood up and kissed his cheek.  “I have told you again and again: drop the Mistress, yeah?  You’re practically family by now!”

“Where is he now?” the Elf asked, after handing the baby back to Anna.

“He and Beriel are down at the Livery with the boys.  It’s a nice day, and I don’t want him to sit around here.”

“Thank you, Anna.”

Turamarth walked the few blocks to the business Daffyd and his son ran.  The words “Dale Livery” were painted in neat letters over the large sliding doors, and he could hear the sound of horses rattling around in their large boxes.

“Hey there, Tur!”  Powell said, as he finished grooming an immense chestnut mare.  The young man was the image of his father, with a pleasant demeanor that resembled his mother.  The boy had shoulder-length dark hair, which was tied back at the nape of his neck.

“Good morning, Powell.  I am looking for Bowen, and was told he was here.”

“He’s back yonder with Bothel. 2  I can’t hardly believe it, but that bastard’s taken a liking to Bowen, though I’m nervous about it.”

“Is he the horse the children say bites?”

“The very one.  If he doesn’t knock it off, we’re going to have to geld him.  He’s a fine specimen, and I’d hate to do it.

“But he likes Bowen?”

“Seems to, only Da won’t let him touch him unless one of us are near.”  Powell put the mare’s foot back on the ground and stroked her neck.  “There’s a good lady…”  he turned to the Elf and said.  “That dog the King gave him won’t let him do it either.”

“That is good to know.  How do you like living on your own?  Lord Bard tells me you are living in the apartment above now.”

Powell grinned.  “I’m mighty pleased, if you must know.  Mind you, I didn’t mind the children, not at all, but I’m grown now, and…  well I’ve started stepping out with one of the baker’s daughters, and some day, I want to settle down and start a family.  It was time for me to be out on my own.”

“Congratulations.” The Elf put his hand on the young man’s shoulder.  “I hope it goes well.” He looked toward the back.  “How is the boy today?”

“About the same.  Bowen likes to sit on a barrel there quiet-like, and it seems to settle them both down.  I think they’re good for what ails each other, though I don’t know what’s going on in that horse’s head.”

“I have made arrangements to take Bowen for the day, unless of course, you need him.”

“Go on back, then.  Da is out on a call, but he told me to expect you.  We haven’t said anything.”

“Thank you.”  Turamarth walked down the large midway, and found Bowen in front of the last stall.  Bothel, a huge black stallion with a wide stripe on his face, had been put far apart from the other residents of the barn as a precaution, and though Tur couldn’t blame Daffyd for doing that, it certainly didn’t help the horse’s temperament any.  Bowen was facing the horse, as he absentmindedly stroked Beriel.

 _“Gi suilon, Bowen.”_ The Elf said softly, so as not to startle the boy, who seemed lost in thought, as he sat looking off into space, twisting a piece of straw in his hands.  “I am told you are highly favored by your dark friend here.”

“Aye, I like him.” The boy answered.  “I’m not allowed to pet him, unless somebody’s here.”

“I am here; go ahead if you like.”  Turamarth assured him.

The boy stood up and went to the half-door and slid the barred portion to the side.  Bothel quickly stuck his immense head out and neighed loudly.  Bowen slowly raised his hand, speaking softly, and lightly began to stroke his nose, but when the horse saw Turamarth, his ears went back, and he backed up.

“Shhh….” The Elf said in soothing tones.  _“Shhh…_   _Davo annin gi nathad, mellon-lobor nîn_ …”   He held out his palm and waited patiently for the horse to approach.  _“Sevin dhâf?”_ he asked politely, and eventually, Bothel approached him again, but cautiously.  Eventually the horse allowed the Elf to pet him, as Turamarth began to talk to him in soothing tones.  “ _Man le trasta, Bothel?  De vaer?_ ”

He stroked the horses face and looked at him thoughtfully.  No, he was perfectly sound...  Daffyd and Powell took excellent care of their beasts, and Bothel was no exception.

He put both hands on the horse’s head, and closed his eyes.  After a few more moments, he began to laugh. He sensed no animosity or pain of any kind.  Just a lively and roguish spirit, who liked to cause trouble, though he means no true harm.

“What’s so funny?” Bowen had been watching the Elf with Bothel, and was fascinated with the connection between them. 

After putting his face close to the big horse, he spoke several sentences in Quenyan, and Bothel neighed in acknowledgement, and even a little alarm.

“He is not hurt, or even angry, _Adanneth_.  Our friend Bothel just likes to make mischief.  I have explained that if he remains kind, he will be allowed nearer to all the activity outside, and he will no longer be bored.” Tur laughed.  “He will also retain certain body parts he may not want to part with.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.  He is young, and has too much energy for his own good.  Come.”

Bowen followed him back to Powell, who was talking to his father, who had recently returned.

“Hey there, you!  So, how’d you like our ‘biter?’”

“I like Bothel, though I have convinced him to no longer bite.”

The older man said.  “Just like that?”

“To be sure, test him for yourself.”

“How?”

Turamarth grinned.  “I have also warned him of his impending castration if he does not behave.  Bothel is very intelligent, and has more energy than the average work horse.  He is easily bored, and does not like being in a box stall by himself.  We will often match horses of such a temperament with a pet, such as a goat.  I think you will find our dark friend will be happier with a little companionship.”

“A goat, you say?”

“Oh yes; they are both social animals and they often have a calming effect.  I would also suggest you give him more exercise.  Take him to walk in the River, to tire him out."

 “I’ll see it done.”  Daffyd agreed.  “You two off somewhere?”

“Yes, but we will be back before dinner.”

“Sure thing.”  He gave Turamarth a wink, then tousled Bowen’s head.  “You go have fun, kid.”

“Okay, thanks Daffyd.” The boy didn’t smile, but his mood lifted.  “Bye, Powell.”

 

Elf and boy walked through the streets and enjoyed the fresh air.  The sun wasn’t shining, the sky was clouded over, but there was no indication of rain.  The slightly cooler temperatures felt good, after such a hot summer, and Beriel was feeling lively.

They arrived at the barns near the barracks, and Bowen followed him inside.  “Are we going to see Sandastan?”

 _Sandastan_ was Turamarth’s dun stallion, and his name was Quenyan for a type of battle formation.  The Elf had raised him from a foal, and loved his high spirits and cheerful outlook, which mirrored his own, but make no mistake: when on duty, _Sandastan_ was all business, and no one to fool with.

“We are.  I asked that he be brought in from the pastures, because I thought we might go for a ride.  He has a friend he’d like you to meet.”

“What do you mean?”

They reached _Sandastan’s_ stall, and Bowen went over to say hello.  The boy liked the horse very much, and the feeling was mutual.

Tur went to the stall past his own, and stroked the nose of the mare in the next stall.  “Bowen, I would like you to meet Vórima.  In Quenyan, her name means, ‘Faithful.’”

“She’s pretty.” Bowen went to the mare and held out his hand for her to sniff.  She was a Roan-color with dappled spot of red.  “Whose is she?”

“Yours, if you want her.”

Bowen was stunned.  _“Mine?”_

“Yes.  I have spoken with Daffyd, and he has agreed to let us bring her to the Livery, so she can be nearer to you.  She comes from the Woodland Realm, though her ancestors were purchased from Rohan, and she has an excellent lineage.”

“Daffyd says I can?”

“Yes.”

Vórima had been purchased with Turamarth’s own money, along with her saddle and bridle.  Lord Thranduil had offered to pay for her, which was generous, but the Guard respectfully declined.  He’d written to his father for help, and she had been brought to Dale yesterday.

He was hoping the horse, along with school, would help pull Bowen from his depression, before it became too serious.  As it was, Ermon had prescribed Wort to put into his tea to help, plus chamomile and valerian at night. 

It was helping some, but Daeron’s departure a couple of weeks ago left both of them at loose ends.  Turamarth missed his cousin terribly.  Maybe he needed this as much as Bowen did.

Bowen threw himself at the Elf and hugged him tight.  “Thank you!”

Tur was deeply moved and stroked the boy’s hair.  He was glad his cousin approached him to help this boy, and by extension his family.  “I think we should let you two get acquainted.  Shall we?”

Bowen eagerly put her saddle and bridle on, while Turamarth got Sandastan ready.  Then Turamarth put some food he had purchased earlier, along with some water skins in his saddle bags, and the two of them went outside through the East Gates of the city.

The Elf and the boy spend the day riding along the outskirts of Hope Field, and enjoying the sights of the valley, with Erebor in the distance.  Beriel loved running in the grass and made friends with the huge white dogs guarding the livestock as they grazed.

After they entered the forest, they had left the horses on the ground settled themselves high in a huge maple tree, eating some lunch.  Bowen was leaning against the trunk as he straddled a large limb, chewing on his apple.  Elf explained the relationship Woodelves enjoyed with the forest, how they formed friendships with some trees.   and he encouraged Bowen to do the same.

“But I can’t.  I’m not like you.”

“A tree cannot understand your words, Bowen, but it can understand your heart.”

“What do I say?”

“We Elves often like to spend a day telling our friends what makes them happy or sad or angry.” He gave the boy a meaningful look.  “I do not see why you could not do the same.”

 

Turamarth finished his bread and cheese, and after offering the water skin to Bowen took a long drink, then packed everything away.  He moved closer, put his hand on Bowen’s head, and the other against the tree, closed his eyes and said a few words in Quenyan. 

“I have introduced you, and _Ornë_ seems to like you.  I suggest you begin tell him what is uppermost on your mind, and go from there.  I,” he grinned, as he slung the bag over his shoulder, “will be on the ground.  When you are ready, call for me, and I will help you get down.” 

With a grace that was natural to him, but astounding to Bowen, he easily swung down and landed on his feet in the grass, then settled himself against one of the roots to relax and share his apples with the horses. 

And so, for the next two hours, Turamarth sat against the bottom as Beriel napped with her head in his lap.  From above he heard the faint sounds of Bowen’s voice as he unburdened himself to a friend who listened better than any Man or Elf could.

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 19 th of September, 2942, T.A.**

After a week with the Wardens, it was at last time for Daeron’s unit to leave for their year in the Golden Wood.

These Elves had spent a great deal of time together this past week and Daeron found them to be a more reserved than the Silvans of the Woodland realm, but respectful with good hearts and an eagerness to serve.

They Warden had sparred with their counterparts just about every day, each teaching the other special techniques or tricks they had learned over the years, and their archery practice turned into an impromptu contest, which many residents of the Palace and nearby villages came to see.

Daeron had spent a great deal of time with the Warden and liked him very much.

~o0o~

> “Tell me, Lieutenant,” Rúmil began, during one of the first meals they shared together.
> 
> “Call me Daeron, please.”  He genuinely liked the Elf, as much as one could in the space of a week.  “What can I help you with?”
> 
> “And you must call me Rúmil.  I am told I will be staying with your cousin while in Dale.  Is he much like you?”
> 
> “In looks, yes.  You have met my mother, yes?”
> 
> “I had the pleasure, as well as your Aunt.  They are quite a fixture in the Palace.” He smiled.
> 
> “Turamarth and I were raised together.  We often joke that we had four parents instead of two,” he grinned.  “I think you and Turamarth will get on, though I should warn you, he is very outgoing and a bit of a prankster.  There is something else you should know…”
> 
> He went on to explain how Tur is mentoring Bowen and his family, to help his grief.  “He may spend a great deal of time with you both, so be prepared.  You will see many Elves in Dale looking after older children like this.  They have not coped well with the loss of parents and their homes, so Lord Thranduil and Commander Feren set up a volunteer program to give them structure and guidance.”
> 
> “I do not know much about human children, I will admit,” Rúmil said, softly.  “It has been an age since I have seen an Elven child.”
> 
> “Ah. Well.  You may as well get used to them, because you will encounter many of them in Dale.”  Daeron smiled.  “They are noisy, impetuous, messy and absolutely wonderful.  They have an innocence and capacity for joy that transcend their circumstance and you will find they lighten your heart more than just about anyone else.”
> 
> “I saw that some of your people adopted human children here.  They seem happy enough.”
> 
> “That is the doing of the esteemed Lady Hilda of Dale.  She is King Bard’s Seneschal at the Castle, and when we hosted the women and children over the winter, she was careful to place the many orphans from the Desolation and the Battle with suitable families.”
> 
> “And King Bard allowed this adoption by another race?”  Rúmil had never heard such a thing.
> 
> “He did.  So many children had lost parents, you understand, and he was only concerned that they be loved and well-cared for, which increases the chances for the North, in the long run.  Commander Feren has two delightful daughters now, and you will meet them soon.”
> 
> “What about their human heritage?”
> 
> “That is also a concern for Lady Hilda, and the adoptive parents that live here report to her on a regular basis.  She held classes and meetings over the winter to educate my people of their unique dietary and physical needs.  Many of the parents get together frequently to support each other.  We do not want these children to forget their human parents, or where they came from.”
> 
> “This is fascinating.” The Warden sat back and pondered this.  “I look forward to seeing this.  It was one of the many reasons why I asked to come, as a matter of fact.  I am told you are an expert in Human matters, particularly midwifery.”
> 
> “I am.” The Lieutenant nodded.  “I look forward to teaching what I know to your own Healers.”
> 
> “We have the books written by Lord Elrond, of course, but I will admit, we have many human villages nearby and will need the benefit of your hands-on experience, so we can learn to help them.  I have often thought we could improve relations with them, but our proximity to Dol Guldur kept us busy.  My brother Haldir, I will warn you, is rather reluctant to embrace this new philosophy.”
> 
> “Really?  The Marchwarden is your brother?”
> 
> “He is.  Oh, he is a good Elf and I think you will like him.  It is just that he takes his job of protecting our borders very seriously.  He has concerns, and I am hoping that the presence of you and your Guardians will help him see what the Lord and Lady are trying to accomplish.”
> 
> “I look forward to that.” Daeron said, seriously.  “I will be staying with him, correct?”
> 
> “Yes.  He is much older than myself, and he and my other brother, Orophin, raised me, after we lost our parents.”
> 
> “So, Orophin is nearer in age to Haldir?”
> 
> “Yes.  We just call him ‘Phin.”
> 
> “Why ‘Phin?”
> 
>  “When I was very young, I could not pronounce his full name.” Rúmil shrugged, then grinned.  “Orophin has a playful heart, much like how you describe Turamarth, yet he is an excellent soldier, and a credit to the Galadhrim.”
> 
> “Yes.  That is Turamarth.  He and I are at the same level with the swords and fighting knives, but he always beats me at archery and will not let me forget it.”
> 
> “Really?” the Warden was surprised.  “If he is better than you with a bow and arrow, he is talented indeed.” Then he laughed.  “Perhaps we will not be so homesick after all. ‘Phin thinks our brother can sometimes be too serious for his own good, and he makes sure Haldir does not become too sullen.”
> 
> “I think I will like him.  Tur is constantly keeping me from taking myself too seriously.  But he is the best friend an Elf could ask for.”
> 
> Rumil raised his glass and toasted.  “If you can survive a year with my brothers, I will try to do the same with your cousin.”
> 
> ~o0o~

This morning, King Thranduil held a private breakfast with the Wardens and the Guards out in his private Gardens, and the conversation was relaxed and lively. 

Then the twelve Elves gathered at the end of the Royal Wing and led by the King, marched with elegant precision through the Palace to the Main Doors.  All the residents of the Palace had lined up along the many walkways to wish them well.

Two caravans were ready: one heading West, with a wagon holding to carry supplies and the Guardian’s luggage, and one heading East, ready to go to Dale.

When they went through the doors, Daeron his mother and aunt standing with the other family members, with proud looks on their faces.  He went over and embraced them both.

“Be well, my son.” Idril said, trying to smile, as she kissed him. “Here is something for your journey.” She tucked a packet of snacks into his pocket with an affectionate look.  “These are your favorite.  Please; be sure to write soon.”

 _“Gi melin_ , _Nana_.” He smiled at her.

Indis was next.  “Take care of yourself, _Gwathellion_ , and you must write to us frequently.  I want to hear all about your adventures.”  She caressed his cheek.  “We will miss you.”

“And I you, Aunt.” He smiled. 

Ómar and Adamar were last.  “I am so proud of you, _Ion nîn_.” Adamar whispered, as he embraced his son.  “I know you will do your best.”

“ _Gi melin,_ _Ada_.” Daeron inhaled deeply as he enjoyed his father’s embrace.  “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Always, my son.” Adamar kissed his brow.  “Never doubt that.”

Daeron took a deep breath, and ordered the Guards back in formation, to wait for the King’s blessing.

Everyone stood at attention, as Thranduil gave his Guardians a blessing for a safe journey:

_“Cuio vae a geilu,_

_No gelin in raid dhîn, a no adel dhen i chwest_ _.”_

Then he closed his eyes and held his palms upward as he offered a prayer to the Valar for a safe journey:

“O, Eru Ilúvitar!

Varda, Queen of the Stars,

Yavanna, Keeper of all that is Green and Growing,

Please keep our people safe as they journey to new lands and new adventures,

And may we all be blessed with deeper understanding between our lands

And all the Free People of Middle Earth.”

They all waited quietly, as the Guardians and the Lothlórien escort mounted up.  Daeron was at the front with the leader of the escort, and when he gave to order to move out, he turned to see his parents give him encouraging smiles.

Daeron struggled with many feelings in his heart, as he rode away from his home, away from his family, and far, far away from the beautiful young woman and little boy who had so captured his heart.

He prayed earnestly that he might be able to return, but at this point, he honestly didn’t know if his goodbye to Rhian was temporary, or forever.

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Mae de 'ovannen, Rúmil Halfarion. Dhe a tirith_ _chîn nathlof hi._ \- Greetings, Rúmil, son of Halfar.  You and your guards are welcome here.

 _Ni veren an dhe ngovaned;_ _êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn_ –  I am happy to meet you; a star shines on the hour of our meeting. 

 _Mae de 'ovannen, Beriamín Miui Rúmil_ – Well met, Rúmil, Captain of the Galadhrim (formal)

 _Mae de 'ovannen, Tiriamín Edwen _Elion__ – Well met, Elion, 2nd Lieutenant of the Guardians (formal)

 _Shhh…_   _Davo annin gi nathad, mellon-lobor nîn_... –  Shhh…  Let me help you, my horse-friend…

 _Sevin dhâf?_ – May I?

 _Man le trasta, Bothel? –_ What troubles you, Bothel?

 _De vaer?_ – Do you feel well?

 _Ni cheniog?_ – Do you understand me?

 _Addaneth_ – Young man

 _Gi melin_ , _Nana_ – I love you, Mom

 _Cuio vae a geilu_ –  Farewell and blessings

 _No gelin in raid dhîn, a no adel dhen i chwest_ – May your paths be green and the wind behind you. 

 

NOTES:

[1] Rúmil was not privy to what he and only a handful of people in Middle Earth knew: The Golden Wood has only remained beautiful and untouched because his Lady possessed something of immense power, as did Lord Elrond and Mithrandir.

As much good as it could be for his own Kingdom, Thranduil never desired to possess such a thing, for he also knew the heavy price one paid to own such a trinket.  Since learning of those things just after he became King after the Battle of Dagorlad, not one utterance of this knowledge passed Thranduil’s lips, and he never told Bard the story of how he learned of these Rings of Power, until after Sauron was defeated and the Fourth Age began.

 

[2] _Bothel –_ Welsh for “Blister, Pain, Nuisance.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To review, the names of the Galadhrim from Lothlórien are: 
> 
> Rúmil Halfarion - brother to Haldir, and Warden of the group  
> Gerion Gilfannion - Warrior and 2nd in Command  
> Eriol Auredhirion - Warrior  
> Lindo Langonion - Warrior  
> Cwën Saerosiel - Archer  
> Amaren Amandiliel, Archer


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the troop journeys to Dale, Thranduil shares some pertinent information with Rúmil. 
> 
> The Wardens are greeted by the Royal family, then Thranduil shares his letter with Bard…
> 
> And Daeron arrives in Lothlórien, and meets Lady of Light and her Consort.
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galadhrim Wardens: 
> 
> Rúmil, Warden, (Captain)  
> Gerion, 2nd in command  
> Eriol, Lórien warrior     
> Lindo, Lórien Warrior           
> Cwën, Lórien Archer  
> Amaren, Lórien Archer
> 
>  
> 
> Woodland Realm Guardians:
> 
> Daeron (Commander)  
> Elion (2nd in Command)  
> Amrol, Warrior  
> Haden, Warrior  
> Eilinel, Archer  
> Ranuin, Archer

 

 

“I think about you. But I don’t say it anymore.”

**- Marguerite Duras**

**City of Dale, 19 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

Thankfully the journey to Dale was without incident, and everyone seemed to enjoy the ride, as the Wardens chatted amiably with the group.  They were interspersed among Thranduil’s Guardians, to take advantage of the long trip and become better acquainted.  Ivran and Ruvyn were chatting amiably with Gerion, Eriol, and Lindo.  Even Galion was deep in conversation with the Archers Cwën and Amaren as they rode.

He liked these young Galadhrim, and sent up a silent prayer for this year to go well, and hopefully this was just the beginning of a better understanding between them.

Thranduil was enjoying the sunshine and the cooler breeze, when Rúmil commented, “I imagine you are looking forward to seeing your family, My Lord.”

 “I admit I have missed them.  We try to minimize our separations, thought it often cannot be helped, for I will not shirk my duties to my Realm.” He smiled sadly.  “My human children grow quickly, and their time is fleeting, and every moment is precious…   Our youngest was quite ill recently.”

“I am sorry to hear that, _Aran nîn_.  Is she recovered?”

“Not quite.  Lieutenant Daeron believes she will be a bit delicate for some time, perhaps always, but we are hopeful.”

“I have heard much about his talent as a Healer, although he seems modest about it.”

“He has a gift, and the Golden Wood will benefit from it.” 

 “My Lord and Lady were concerned to hear of Lord Bard’s accident and all that followed.  Did Daeron assist?”

“No.   He remained with my children at the Palace to look after Tilda and the rest.  Mithrandir,” Thranduil smiled, “helped a great deal.  I believe it is thanks to him we are still here.”

“Warden,” The Elvenking moved his horse closer and his voice lowered.  “I have not had an opportunity to speak with you, but there is something you need to know about King Bard.  I have no doubt the Wizard has made Celeborn and Galadriel aware, but you will see things about my husband that need some explanations.  You see, our marriage is not between an Elf and a Man, strictly speaking…”

“I am told when Eärendil the Mariner shone his blessing on us, things had changed for Elves.  Mithrandir was sent to explain to us.”

“It has, and I agree with it.  However, there is more to it, for Lord Bard and I.  What I am about to tell you, must go no further, for many reasons, and I expect your confidence, is that clear?”

“ _Ben iest dhîn,_ _Aran nîn_.” Rúmil vowed, putting his hand to his heart.

Thranduil explained to Rúmil the unique status of their marriage.

“My husband gave up the Gift of Men to ensure the Woodland Realm will not be leaderless, when Middle Earth faced its final Battle.  I think the physicality was a reward for putting the good of Middle Earth, over time he could spend with his parents and children.”

“It is quite a sacrifice.”  The Warden said, softly.

“It is, although my foresight tells me there is another reason for Lord Bard to be so changed.  It is not apparent to the naked eye, to humans, but as an Elf, you cannot help but notice right away.  He makes sure to practice in private, but if you see this, you are to say nothing, and if your men ask, you will instruct them to do the same.” Thranduil was serious. “You must understand; the people of Dale do not know this.”

“Of course, I will not speak of it, but I would like to understand, if I may ask.”

“I will answer, because it is also a reason why you and your men are here:[1]  Above all, the Three Kings of the North’s main goal is to strengthen and stabilize this territory.  Dale is its Capitol City, the center of Culture and Trade, so it is imperative that we support the City and surrounding lands as much, and as quickly as possible.  Still, that is going to take years, if not decades.

“Make no mistake, Warden:  Bard’s people are loyal for the most part, but Dale is less than a year old, and if you count the official start of the City, is merely four months old.   These people still recover from heavy losses.

“Life in Laketown was brutal at best before the Desolation, but out of a population of 14,000 people, only 9,000 survived those fires, and an additional 2,000 men, women and children were killed in the Battle.”

 _“Ai! Gorgor!”_  

“Sadly, that is the reason they could get the City ready in six months.   The building still continues in other parts of the City, because they expect the population to increase rapidly, between new births and immigrants from other lands.  This rapid growth can be turbulent, so until such time as Dale can protect itself, King Dáin and myself are charged with the safety of our Capitol, and thus the Northern Territory during this turbulent time.”

So few left!” Rúmil was stricken.  “So many children!”

“Do not offer these folks your pity, Warden, for they do would not appreciate it.  Dale is filled with hardy, industrious people, who are determined to move forward, and I am proud to protect them. 

“Much is at stake, Rúmil.  Lord Bard needs time to _prove_ his worth as King, not only to the good people of Dale, but to other regions, who might see his new status as something to be exploited, and try to usurp him through whispering campaigns and such.  He has to succeed, not only for his sake, but for Crown Prince Bain’s as well.”

Thranduil looked at the Warden. “Celeborn tells me you are a brilliant military strategist; I would be interested in hearing your thoughts.”

“I appreciate the compliment, _Hîr Nîn_.  I have not right to an opinion, of course, but I think that is…  a brilliant line of thinking, My Lord.”  Rúmil was serious.  “When one weighs the safety of the region over full disclosure, it is always a difficult choice.  One does not like the idea of deception, but I agree that things are too fragile at the moment.”

The Warden clearly understood that Thranduil was testing him, so he went on.  “I would imagine that after some time has passed, King Bard will find a way to disclose this in a way so that his people will not mind.”

“You would imagine correctly, Warden.”

“May I ask a question, My Lord?”

“You may ask…”  The Elvenking gave a small smile.  He was pleased with Rúmil’s answers so far, and could understand Celeborn’s confidence in him.

“If Lord Bard is no longer Mortal, why would he not remain King indefinitely?”

“It is a reasonable question, so I will answer.  Lord Bard will not deny Prince Bain his birthright.  That was understood before our marriage, and one of the conditions of his choice.  When the time comes, he will take up a position in my Realm and we will live out our lives, and allow Dale to become the City of Men it was meant to be.”  Thranduil became thoughtful.  “At the same time Lord Bard wants to be here to assist Dale whenever the final test comes.  We both sense he has a role to play, though we do not yet know what that is.  He wanted us to be here for that War.  We both do.”

“I fear many Elves will leave these shores before then.” Rúmil mused sadly.

“If they do, I will not judge them, but I plan to stay and fight for the land I have protected for nearly three thousand years.   I want to see it restored to the same glory it once was, and only then I will feel like my work is done.  If the worst happens, and Sauron prevails, I can still find peace knowing I did my utmost.  I could not face King Oropher’s disappointment.”

“I admit, I feel the same, My Lord.  My father loved our lands.”

“I knew Marchwarden Halfar, Rúmil.  In fact, you look very much like him.  It was an honor to fight alongside him and his Galadhrim in the War of the Last Alliance.   He was an Elf of strength honor and integrity.”  The Elvenking looked at him seriously.  “You should know that what Galadhrim did survive that war was due to him, and him alone.”

The Warden’s eyes lit up.  “I am glad to hear you say that.  I have little memory of my father, although Haldir speaks of him often.”

“I would be glad to tell you stories, if you like, for I considered him a good friend.  I think there are some other things about that Battle that you may not know or understand.”

“Such as?”

“For now, let us just say your loyalty your Lord and Lady is well-placed.”  He smiled.  “The rest can wait until some evening in front of the fire with some wine and good company.  I think my husband might also find them interesting.”

“I look forward to it, My Lord.”

 

Soon, the plains before the city were before them, and then they heard the bells of Dale ring to signal their approach.

“It sounds like our people are eager to see these new Elves from far-off lands.”

They both smiled as the roar of the crowd went up.  Before they reached West Gate, Thranduil ordered Rúmil ride to his left, with the rest of the Galadhrim behind him, followed by their Elven escorts.

As they approached, the huge Gates were opened, and as he suspected, crowds of people lined the streets to welcome the Wardens of the Golden Wood. 

As they rode through the winding streets, up toward the dome of the Great Hall in the highest part of the City, the Elvenking suppressed a grin when he heard the gasps of some young women and men at the sight of the proud Galadhrim.  These Elves sat tall and graceful in their saddles, with their golden armor gleaming in the sun.  With straight backs and their long, blonde hair blowing in the breeze, they truly were a beautiful sight, and he could understand the curiosity and awe of many of the folk in Dale.  Children were smiling and waving colorful bits of cloth, and the men and women were shouting “welcome” to their guests. 

He was also touched to hear many of them shout, “Welcome home, Lord Thranduil!” and waved to them with a smile.  The party had to stop several times, as children ran up and handed everyone small bouquets of flowers.  He looked over and saw Rúmil’s amused face as he bent low and accepted some flowers from a red-haired girl, who was holding the hand of her little brother.

Though Thranduil was grateful for their friendly greeting, he was anxious to get to the Castle and see his family, and so their journey through the city streets seemed longer to him.

Family. Valar, he _still_ loved saying that, even to himself…

After several more stops with the children, at last they entered the Courtyard, and there was his family waiting on the dais, before the open doors to the Great Hall of Dale.  Feren, Turamarth and the rest of the Royal Guard standing at the bottom of the steps in dress armor, and was pleased to Tauriel in hers, though he knew she _loathed_ it.

 

“ _Ada_!”  Tilda screamed, as soon as she saw him, and was jumping up and down, enthusiastically.  “ _Ada_!”  She tried to break free from Hilda’s grip, but Percy scooped her up, to keep her from running.  Thranduil grinned and signaled her to stay there, then waved to his other children.  Sigrid waved back, but Thranduil chuckled as her eyes grew like saucers at the sight of Rúmil and his troops. 

Bain was standing with Rhys, Alun, Ben and Rhian and the rest of the Castle staff…

And there was his Bowman... 

Bard, looked incredible in formal dress, with his burgundy cape sweeping over one shoulder. He was still crownless, of course, but his black hair curled around his face and his neck gracefully.  This Man needed no diadem for anyone to know he was a King.  Bard was born for this, and Thranduil felt his stomach flip just to look at him. 

The group veered to the right, and circled the long way around the fountain in the Courtyard before they stopped in front of the steps.   When the Elvenking gave the order, they dismounted with precision and grace, and soon the Galadhrim was lined up, ready to be introduced to the King of Dale and his family.

Bard walked down the steps.  “Welcome home, My Lord Thranduil,” he smiled, with the barest hint of a wink.

“It is good to be home, My King.” The Elvenking remained regal and businesslike, but his eyes gleamed at his Bowman, before he turned to Rúmil.  “I would like to present Rúmil, son of Halfar, Warden of the Galadhrim, and Captain of his unit.”

“It is an honor to be here, King Bard.” Rúmil spoke Westron with an accent indigenous to his people, but was easily understandable.

Bard held out his hand and clasped arms, warrior-style.  “It’s a pleasure to have you, Warden.”

Bard greeted each of them as well as their children, who followed the Kings and bowed and curtsied politely, making Thranduil proud.  He couldn’t help noticing Sigrid seemed a bit flustered, but Hilda’s reaction reminded him of when they first met, and he tried not to laugh.

After a short speech, Bard said.  “You will be taken to your quarters to get yourselves settled, and there will be a Welcome Feast this evening, to introduce you to our people.  Dismissed.”

Almost immediately, Tilda had reached her limit, and hurried over to the Elvenking and held her arms up.  “ _Ada_!  I missed you!  Why were you gone so long?”

“And I missed you, my _Tithen Pen_.” He kissed her soundly on each cheek, as he carried her up the steps.  “I am afraid ‘Kinging’ means I sometimes have to go away.  Have you been good for your Da and Auntie Hil?  Did you say welcome home to Galion?”

“Not yet.”  She leaned from Thranduil’s arms and hugged the Aide.  “Hi Uncle Galion.  I don’t like it when you go away.”

“You look well, My Lady.  Have you been doing well at school?”

“I like it a lot.” She told him, but before she could regale Thranduil and Galion with tales of her accomplishments, they were interrupted by the other children.

“ _Ada_!” Sigrid came over and hugged him.   “I’m so glad you’re home!”

“As am I,” he kissed her cheek, then tousled Bain’s hair.  “Hello, _Ionneg_.  I think you’ve grown!  Where is Tauriel?”

“Taking off her armor,” the boy replied. “Hi, Uncle Galion!  How was your trip?”

“Long, but I enjoyed it.” The Aide replied, as the group started walking back toward their living quarters.   “I do not have the chance to ride nearly as often as I would like.”

Bain looked at him thoughtfully.  “Come to think on it, I’ve never seen you on a horse before!”

“You have never seen him wield a sword, either.  Perhaps you should; Galion who taught me my forms.”

The boy looked at the Aide like he’d never seen him before.

The dark-haired Elf grinned.  “I am full of surprises, are I not?”

They entered the Sitting room, where the Elvenking put Tilda down and at last was able to embrace his husband.

 _“Suil,_ _Meleth nîn_.”  Bard held him tight, and whispered.  “You almost broke our two-week rule, you know.”

“I am sorry, _Meleth_.  But I have a surprise for you.” 

“Oh, I know _that…”_ Bard grinned wickedly, and kissed him.

 “Eww!” Bain screeched and made a face.

 “ _Da!”_ Sigrid gave them a look, as she covered Tilda’s eyes. 

“Hey!”  Tilda tried to pry her sister’s hands away. “Quit that, Sig!”

“What I _mean is_ ,” giving the children a pointed look, “my cousin and his wife sent us a wedding gift.”  He took out the box from his things and showed everyone the cloak pins.

“You have a cousin?” Tilda asked.

“Celeborn, _Tithen Pen_ , is the Lord of the Golden Wood, and all those blonde Elves that I brought with me live there, and serve him and Lady Galadriel.”

“Oooh…” she smiled. “Is she pretty? Could we go see them?”

 

When Thranduil entered their bedchamber to wash and change, Bard shut the door behind them, then kissed him.

“Mmm…” he buried his fingers in Bard’s hair and explored his mouth.  “I have been thinking about this for weeks,” he whispered, before he kissed him again.  And again.

“I’ve been thinking about a lot more than that,” Bard grinned, as he grabbed Thranduil’s hips and pulled him closer.  “But all that will have to wait until later.”

“It will, though I do not wish to.” He kissed Bard again. “How was your first formal Court?  Did it go well?”

“Well, I’ve got nothing to compare it to, really, but I think we accomplished a lot.  I’ll tell you about that later,”. Bard shrugged, then gave him a sly look.  “So... show me the real surprise, love.  I can tell you’ve been on pin and needles since you got here.”

“You know me too well.”  Thranduil reached into his breast pocket and removed the envelope.  There is news.”

Bard took it, then pulled him over to sit on the bed beside him, and read:  

 

 

 

>   _My  cousin, Thranduil,_
> 
> _I will save the formalities for another time, as I have news you will be most anxious to hear:_
> 
> _Legolas accompanied the small band of Dúnedain that came to visit in June, and I am happy to report he looked well and fit._
> 
> _I regret not passing on this news to you sooner, but this information is too sensitive to trust to a messenger (thus the secrecy)._
> 
> _When Mithrandir came to visit us in April, he spoke of many matters, including a detailed account of the events at Erebor and Dale and the unfortunate Battle that took place.  I would like to congratulate you all on your victory and applaud your diplomatic accomplishments in the North since that terrible day._
> 
> _I also wish to convey my condolences for all those lost, for I know that will weigh on your heart for many years to come._
> 
> _The wizard spoke of you and your son, and asked that we keep a watch for him, which of course we will do.   One does not need to know details to understand there are difficulties between you. On this, I merely want to convey my hopes that you will reconcile soon, my cousin._
> 
> _I think you should know that Mithrandir was adamant, that the current whereabouts of Legolas Thranduillion must never be made common knowledge, for though the Enemy is banished, His spies are everywhere, and He is actively seeking ways to regain his position in the South of your Kingdom, and your son may be a target.  Never again, until He is defeated once and for all, can your son travel openly, and he has been made to understand this. _
> 
> _Mithrandir has confirmed what my Lady sensed, in that our young cousin has an important role to play in future events.  As the young Elf is without a guard, the wizard and the Dúnedain have given him the name “ Beleg,” and it was under this name with which he arrived, and his true name was never spoken._
> 
> _Beleg arrived in the third week of June, with his band of Dúnedain and stayed with us for two months, before they moved North of us to continue their work.  Their current Chieftain had been scouting the area of Gundabad for news of Orc movement since it had been emptied for the Battle.  I fear it will not remain deserted for long, and I will keep you informed._
> 
> _We have visited with Beleg many times during his stay, and I must conclude that his time in the wilds with his new friends seems to have done him good.  We have enjoyed his excitement and wonder as he glimpses the wider world, and the various people he has met.  To date, they have not ventured West of the Misty Mountains, and do not plan to for at least another year._
> 
> _He did not speak of you, nor did we press him, but I will tell you that when your name did come up in conversation, he displayed neither anger or resentment.  A sadness that weighs him down, but I do not necessarily think it is entirely to do with you._
> 
> _Your idea to send him to the Dúnedain was a serendipitous one, Thranduil:  Under an assumed name, wandering as a plain ordinary Elf, he is effectively hiding in plain sight and they have no idea where he is!  At least for now, he is safer with them than he would be in the Woodland Realm._
> 
> _The Orcs, I am told, are to look for a blond Elf surrounded by guards in the Woodland Realm, and they have no idea he is gone, and I am in hopes that they will assume he died during the Battle.  If necessary, you may want to instruct your Guardians to spread such a rumor, to further ensure his anonymity._
> 
> _Though Beleg does not yet realize his importance, he will continue to remain under the discreet and watchful eye of the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, and the Lords of Imladris and Lothlórien, not to mention our dear Mithrandir, who works tirelessly for our cause._
> 
> _As happy as I am to tell you of these things, I must end this letter with some other news concerning the Ravens from Erebor – hence the other reason why this letter is hidden, Thranduil._
> 
> _My Wardens have found three dead Ravens, killed by Orc arrows, in the last month, near the Dimril Dale.  We saw no remnants of messages, so we cannot be sure if any were intercepted, but I would strongly advise passing this news to the King Under the Mountain as quickly as possible._
> 
> _Since there will be more communication between our lands, we have decided to utilize a variety of winged creatures as a means to confuse our foes, and I highly recommend you do the same._
> 
> _I hope you enjoy your gift and would like to personally wish you and your King much joy in your new life._
> 
> _With my fondest regards,_
> 
> _Celeborn_

Bard put the letter down, and smiled at him.  “This is wonderful news – at least the first part of it.  How do you feel?”

The Elvenking smiled.  “Like a weight has been lifted.  As anxious as I am to see him, I… find that I envy him.  I have never had the chance to wander anonymously and see the sights and wonders of Middle Earth.  Do not misunderstand me: my status has enabled me to see more than the average Elf, but during these times I am on a schedule; almost every hour is mapped out for me by Galion!

“I very much enjoyed taking Bain and the children camping this summer, because it was relaxed an under rough conditions, and,” the Elf laughed, “I had forgotten how much I had forgotten, about putting up a tent!”

“That bad, eh?”

“It was good practice, and a sign to me that I have been too pampered in my self-imposed exile from the world.  I am glad Legolas is enjoying himself.”

“He isn’t on holiday, love.  He’s working with the Dúnedain.”

“But he is away from my dark, dank and wretched forest, Bard!  He is seeing the world – something I have always wanted to do!”

“Tell you what,” Bard put his arm around him.  “If we do end up surviving this War, and we win, let’s spend a few years traveling.  I want to see as much of Middle Earth as I can before we leave.  How about you?”

Thranduil smiled and kissed him, “I would like that very much.”

 

***************

 

**Lothlórien, 30 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

At long last, Daeron’s unit and their escort reached the Gates of the Golden Wood.  Their ride had been a pleasant one, at least after the group left the Woodland Realm. 

No one was going to pretend they enjoyed riding through a dark forest full of enchantment, and their escort were gracious enough not to make it less than it actually was.  Still, the company of their Galadhrim escort forced Daeron to see the woods of his homeland through fresh eyes, and he found himself mourning for the forest in a way he hadn’t before.

The Lieutenant and his men fielded several questions from their Galadhrim escort about the state of their land, and were very interested to know of the enormous efforts Radaghast was still making to keep the forest as comfortable as possible until it could be cleansed.  No one spoke of the reason why this had to wait: The esteemed Lady Galadriel had to power to banish him, yes, but only the destruction of the Evil One could make it possible to bring it back.

When the Elves from the Golden Wood expressed their hope that this would come to pass, they were sincere, and the Woodland Realm unit appreciated it.

Daeron ordered them to stop at the Gate of the Realm, before the statue of Queen Mírelen.  After they dismounted, they gestured to her memory.

“She was very beautiful,” The one called Airen commented. 

“She was.  King Thranduil has several paintings of her in the Palace; did you see them?"

"I did," she said with a smile.  "I was fascinated with her dark hair."

"She was kind and labored endlessly for her people.  Everyone who knew her, spoke highly of her. Did you know she was once a handmaiden to Lady Arwen?”

“The Lord and Lady’s granddaughter?  No, I did not.”  The Elf looked at the statue again, and tilted her head.  “Such a good Queen surely deserves better than this.  Shall we?”

Together, Guardians and Galadhrim alike, they quickly worked to remove all traces of overgrowth, moss and dirt, and did not stop until she was clean and white once more.

“Now she looks beloved once again.”  Daeron smiled.  “Thank you.”

They mounted up and continued their trek, riding all day, making camp at night, as they crossed the Anduin and followed the river from the Western side.  They spent the night at _Loeg Ningloran_ speaking of the history there, and sharing stories they had heard.[2]

Finally, they were reached the Golden Wood and after they entered the Annon Edhellen of Lothlórien all Daeron could do was look up and stare in wonder at the tall, wide Mallorn trees. 

 _“Nan ear adh in elin…”_ Elion murmured behind him.  _“San i bain!”_

All was peaceful as their horses walked on the road to Caras Galadhon, where the Lord and Lady awaited them, though he knew they were being watched carefully.  The Galadhrim were no different than the Guardians of the Woodland Realm in that they were a constant, unseen presence.  That is as it should be, for anyplace so beautiful must be guarded jealously against enemies.

But it was more than the Wardens that guarded these woods.  There was a benevolent power at work here, that kept the borders protected.  The same instinct that made him aware of this, also told him never to speak of it, and never to ask.

So green!  So beautiful!  He closed his eyes and lifted his head and inhaled the scent of this forest, so he would never forget the sheer beauty of it.  His _fëa_ sang to the trees, offering them greetings, and he could feel them return the salutation.  

When he lowered his face and opened his eyes again, he wasn’t surprised to see that his other Guardians were doing the same, as well as their escort. 

“No matter how many times I enter my homeland,” Airen told him softly, “I cannot help but marvel at my home.”

“I do not blame you.” He told her, with genuine awe in his voice.

Soon they came to the outskirts of Caras Galadhon, and saw to their horses.  After they were settled with food and water, the Guardians carried their bags and followed their escort through the floor of the Fortress of Trees.

A covered staircase wound up the largest of the trees and after Airen instructed them to leave their bags.  It was only mid-afternoon, so the intricate lamps he saw hanging from the walkway were not lit, but he was looking forward to seeing them at night.

Up, and up they went, until at last they reached the house of the Lord and the Lady of the Golden Wood.  The structure was a series of graceful sloping arches accented with graceful carvings along the top and sides.  It was smaller than Daeron had imagined, but the same time bigger; he couldn’t explain it.  The house of the Lord and Lady consisted of several adjoining flets spread over immense branches, and its many lamps hanging from the ceilings promised to be a breathtaking sight at night.

They were met with two Guards, who opened the doors and brought them through to the receiving area, and with a quick command, Daeron ordered them lined up and at attention to await their hosts. 

From above more doors opened and Lord Celeborn, resplendent in white, with his silver hair falling around his shoulders, gracefully stepped down the few steps with his beloved wife, Galadriel on his arm.

She was…  indescribable.  Clearly one of the most beautiful Elves he had ever seen, but she was so much more.  This Elf had been born in the sacred land of Valinor and had been born in the Years of the Two Trees, before the Sun ever rose in the sky.  This ethereal Elf, if the legends were true, the light in her hair came from the Two Trees, and this had given Fëanor the idea of capturing their light in his doomed Silmarils.

Without thinking, Daeron dropped to his knees and lowered his head in her presence, and all the Guardians followed.  He was overcome with awe, to be in the presence of the most famous and powerful Elf on Middle Earth today.

“My Lord and Lady,” he said, trying to make his voice strong and clear, “I am honored beyond measure to be chosen to stay here, even for a short time.”

The Guard felt smooth fingers lift his chin and he was looking up the Lady.  “Rise, Daeron Adamarion.” She smiled.

When he stood, he looked deep into her grey eyes and saw an ocean of wisdom and power within them.  He could feel her searching his _fëa,_ for any sign of deception or malice, and he did his best to withstand this and continued to meet her knowing gaze.  Daeron was startled to hear a voice inside his head:

_Welcome, Guardian and Healer.  Let not your heart be troubled, for you will find respite from your weariness and sorrow, here.  I will send for you at the appointed time, and your doom will be revealed._

Daeron felt his cares and fears lift from him, and he no longer felt such despair.  Though he knew the only joy he could find would be in Rhian’s arms, the peace and contentment he’d been searching was here.

“My Lady,” he gasped, then bowed his head in submission.

Galadriel did the same for each of the other Guardians, and seemed to find none wanting.  She went back to stand with her husband, as Celeborn said, “We bid you welcome to Lothlórien.”

Daeron stepped forward and made the introductions to the Lord and Lady, once done, they drew their swords and went down on one knee, they swore their loyalty and obedience, while in Lothlórien.

 Now it was time for Lord Celeborn, to make introductions.  “I would like to introduce Haldir Halfarion, Marchwarden of Lothlórien, as his father was before him.”

A blonde Elf who had the look Rúmil, stepped forward and saluted.  He had strong, wise features, but his brother’s assessment was true in that he had a sober countenance, but not a grim one.  This Elf took the safety of his people seriously and expected his men to do no less.

 _“Mae de 'ovannen, Tiriamín Miui Daeron,”_ the Marchwarden put his hand over his heart and bowed. 

“ _Mae de 'ovannen,_ _Beriamín Miui Haldir_ _,”_ Daeron returned the greeting.

 “This is my brother, Orophin, also a Marchwarden and my second in command.”

“ _Mae de 'ovannen,_ _Beriamín_ _Edwen_ _Orophin_ _,”_ he replied politely.  This brother more closely resembled Rúmil, and he was the tallest of the three brothers.  “This is my second, Elion.”

The greetings were exchanged between _Tiriamín Edwen_ _Elion_ , and the Marchwardens, and all the rest of the unit.

Once the introductions were made, the Lord and Lady sent them to what would be their various quarters for the year.  As it turned out, Daeron would not be staying with Haldir, as Rúmil’s rooms were adjacent to Orophin’s, although Haldir’s flet was only a few yards away.  The structure that made up their house was much like the Lord and Lady’s: a series of short steps or walkways leading up or down to various parts of their home.  Their house was much plainer, of course in style and decoration, yet still beautiful.

When they entered the main door, Daeron looked around him in wonder.  There was a common area with comfortable-looking chairs, couches and low tables, and on the wall were hung a series of weapons, obviously owned by their residents.  There were also paintings of what he could assume to be scenes of their home. To the left he could see the kitchen which was open in style, and neatly kept, plus a table with six chairs.

“This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” He told his host.  “It is beautiful!”

“Thank you,” Orophin grinned.  “Haldir has asked me to do the honors, as he has matters he must see to, before tonight’s feast.  Let me show you your rooms.”

Toward the back there were three covered walkways, looking down to the depths of the forest below.

“These are my rooms,” Orophin indicated to the flet on the left, “the one straight ahead belongs to Haldir.”  This was a much larger structure, befitting his station and responsibilities, and through the open door, he could see that it held not only a bedroom, but a large study, as well.

“This is where you will be staying.”  Orophin took him to the right, and up four steps, and opened the door to a room that was smaller than his own in Woodland Realm or Dale, but the openness of the large windows plus their height gave the illusion of space and an airy comfort.

“I like it very much.” Daeron smiled at the warm breeze that moved the sheer white curtains ahead.  “I love the light colors.”

This was true.  His home in dale was full of rich, warm hues, like the rest of the City, and not unlike its people, but the walls here were done in the palest shades of green and white, which reflected the calm atmosphere.

“Rúmil painted the walls himself.  Of the three, my brother is the best at home repairs and maintenance, and enjoys keeping things running smoothly.” Orophin smiled.

“If you are hoping to find me thus inclined, I am sorry to disappoint you.” Daeron laughed.  “I never had much time to learn such things, I am afraid.  My cousin Turamarth is continually squawking at my mess.”

Orophin set one of his bags on the bed.  “Do you need help unpacking?  Rúmil’s things are stored, so you need not worry about disturbing his personal items.”

“I do not, but I would not mind company while I take care of it.”

“I will be right back.” 

Daeron took advantage of his absence to find the privy, which was adjoining his washroom, to take care of matters.  Then began to open his trunk, which had been brought while they were meeting the Lord and Lady.

Orophin quickly returned with some drinks.  “We will have a quiet day here, then tomorrow, we will take you and your men on a tour of Caras Galadhon, after which there will be a Feast on the Forest Floor to welcome you.”

“That is kind of you all.”  Daeron said, as he unpacked his personal things and took them into the washroom to set above the bathtub. “I normally do not feel tired after traveling…”

“Greeting the Lady of Light can be, shall we say, ‘overwhelming.’”  Orophin smiled.  “It is normal to need quiet and rest after your first meeting.”

“Will that always happen?”

“No.  All visitors to our Realm, planned or no, are brought before the Lady, to determine their true intentions.  She obviously found nothing wanting among your people and was pleased.”

Daeron was curious.  “What would happen if she found malice?”

“It depends.” Orophin answered quietly.  “Just as with your King, my Lord and Lady to not hesitate to do what they must, should the need arise.” He sighed.  “But let us speak of happier things.  I was glad to hear of your King’s marriage.  You live in Dale, do you not?”

“I do.”

“So, it was a good match?” the Warden asked.  “Forgive my curiosity, but a second marriage amongst Elves is almost not heard of, not to mention between an Elf and Man.”

“While I will not speak of personal matters between my King and his Consort, I will tell you they have both found joy, after suffering a terrible loss.  The Prince and Princesses were fostered in our Palace during the winter, and we are all fond of them.”

“Mithrandir has nothing but good things to say about the King of Dale.”

Daeron nodded.  “It is said Lord Bard is the best of Men, and I agree.  His ancestors are among the Princes of Dol Amroth, though the Elven blood of that line has been greatly diminished.  He is worthy of our King and will be a great King himself.”

The Warden considered all this.  “I think I would like to see Dale one day.” He took a drink.

“I believe you would enjoy yourself.”  Daeron was finished unpacking, so they took their drinks to the balcony off the Common room to enjoy the fresh air and the view.

“So beautiful,” Daeron sighed, as he looked through the treetops and smelled the scent of the Elanor blooming.  “From here, one could forget the outside world and all its troubles.”

And he meant it. 

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Ben iest dhîn,_ _Aran nîn_ – As you wish, My King.

 _Loeg Ningloran_ – Gladden Fields. 

 _Nan ear adh in elin… -_ By the sea and stars…

 _San i bain!_ – It is beautiful!

 _Mae de 'ovannen, Tiriamín Miui Daeron_ – Well met, Daeron Commander (of the Guardians)

 _Mae de 'ovannen,_ _Beriamín Miui Haldir_ – Well, met, Haldir Marchwarden (of the Galadhrim)

 _Mae de 'ovannen,_ _Beriamín Edwen Orophin_ – Well met, Orophin, Second Commander (of the Galadhrim)

 _Tiriamín Edwen_ _Elion_ – Elion, Second Commander (of the Guardians)

 

[1] Though we know that each unit is made of male and female, I will use “Men” collectively, such as Dwarves means both Dwarves and Dwarrowdams; or Elves, means both Ellyn or Ellyth.

 

[2] Two years after King Isildur cut the One Ring from Sauron’s hand with the shards of Narsil, his men were ambushed by Orcs and he was killed, along with almost all of his men.  The Ring was lost in the Anduin, and stayed that way for nearly 2,500 years.  It is suspected that this site was the reason Sauron set up his stronghold in the abandoned fortress of Amon Lanc.

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We back track a bit, to see how King Bard handles his first Formal Court. 
> 
> Poor Hilda takes great pains to get everyone spiffed up for the Galadhrim’s arrival – with limited success.
> 
> Bain suffers from some growing pains as a young man, and Heir to the Throne.
> 
> The Kings received a rude awakening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! I had to make a slight correction in the last chapter. Daeron did, in fact know Queen Mírelen, because he was born in the year 949 T.A., and she died in the year 1953 T.A. He was 1004 years old when the Queen died.

 

 

“’Sometimes people fall in love with those who do not return the same strength of feelings. It is as it is,’ he said with a quiet intensity. ‘What I give, I give freely. You owe me nothing, not love, not friendship, not even obligation.’”   
― [ **Sherry Thomas**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/266470.Sherry_Thomas), [ **Tempting the Bride**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/18441729)

**City of Dale, 15 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

“Now, remember, Beanie; I can’t come pick you up after school today.  I’ll be busy holding Court in the Great Hall.  Your Guard is going to take you to Rhian’s house, so you can stay with her and Sigrid, until I’m done.  You’ll probably eat supper there, too.”  Bard was holding Tilda’s hand as they walked, accompanied by Turamarth, another Guard - a new one - named Meldon, and Esta.

“I won’t forget.  What happens at Court?”

“It’s my first one, so I’ll be learning, too.  Mostly I will help people settle problems and complaints.  Then, we want to talk to our people and tell them how the building is going, and our plans for Dale.  A lot has been happening, so the people need to know what’s going on.  Afterward, Percy, Evan and Alun will make copies of everything we’ve decided, and hang it up in different places in the City so everybody can know.”

“That’s nice of you.” She looked up at Bard.  “Do I _have_ to take a nap at Rhian’s?” she asked hopefully.

“Yes, love.  Elénaril said you could stay at school all day _only_ _if_ you rested after, remember?”

In truth, Tilda didn’t need much help napping after school.  The first few days after classes started, she fell asleep against Thranduil’s shoulder, as he carried her home.

Since then, she usually came home and fell asleep with no trouble, so she probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight for Rhian.

They reached the school and Bard leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek, and handed her her lunch pail. “Be good and have fun.  I love you.”

“Love you too, Da!  Bye!  Bye, Turamarth!” She waved, and Meldon took her inside.

“Have a good day, My Lady,” the Elf smiled and waved back, and they turned to go back, just as Meldon, after checking the interior of the school, took his place outside to begin his shift.

 

Later that morning, the Great Hall was packed full and there was a lot on the agenda. Percy and Ben kept things organized and moving along, and Alun and Evan sat near them and recorded every decision and proclamation made that day.

Bard stood up on a table and gave a short speech, then announced the appointment of Tom and Egon as Constables.  They would be assisted by Elves for now, to keep the peace.

“The sad fact is, folks, we just don’t have enough men for the job yet, but that’ll soon change, when others hear of Dale and want to move here.  My long-term goal is still the same: to have our folk govern themselves, with our own Army, but we’ve got to face facts: we simply don’t have the manpower yet, so we’ve got to be patient.”  He clasped his hands together, “Now let’s get started.  What’s first, Lord Percy?”

The hours went by as the more minutiae necessary to run a City were addressed:

—First on the agenda was the formation of the Dale Fire Brigade, made up of volunteers who lived in various parts of the City.  Llewelyn, (husband of Seren and father to two boys and Liliwen, who was born during the winter at the Palace), was hired as the Fire Marshall, and would oversee the organization of folks in each neighborhood, be they Elves or Men, get equipment together, and hold practice drills. 

—Bard laid down the law: _absolutely_ _no_ dumping in the streams that ran through Dale.  He reminded them that these streams were also what kept their crops healthy, and served the farms outside the City Walls, and every house had a pump in their kitchen, which came from those streams for cooking and washing, then discarded via the drains, _only._ Those caught dumping would be heavily fined, and if they persisted, would serve time.Further, Ermon and Hannah, came to give a short talk on why their drinking water should always be boiled, to prevent illness.

—Reports on the current food stores were given, which was ready for this year’s crops.  Mice and rats had infested some homes and stores in the marketplace, so a request would be sent for several more cats to breed with Tauriel’s kittens, to police the area.

—Bard announced that for the next two weeks, classes would be held in the evenings at the Great Hall, to demonstrate methods of preserving fruits and vegetables from the harvest, for those not familiar with the produce.  Lady Hilda would preside, but Idril, from the Palace kitchens, and the Cook from the Castle would be their instructors.

—Next on the schedule we’re the hearings of disputes between citizens, which were all minor this time, thank the Valar, and easily settled.

—The last item (that everyone was waiting for, though no one wanted to admit it) was the judgement of Artie, the drunk who abused his wife in the Market in July.  When Constables Tom and Egon brought him in the crowd began to jeer, but were quickly reprimanded by the King.

“SILENCE!” Bard ordered, in a sharp voice.  “ _Everyone_ in my Court will receive a fair trial, and I _will_ clear this Hall if I have to, is that understood?”

The man confessed remorse for his treatment of his wife, and witnesses came forward stating that, while sober, Artie was “as nice a man you’d want to meet; he just “couldn’t handle his cups.” Even his former wife signed a statement stating such.  Artie tearfully admitted it and felt glad of the chance to break free of the drink while incarcerated.  He then swore off the drink forever, if only the King would let him stay.

Even so, Bard sentenced him to two years in a work-release program, plus a lifetime ban from every pub in Dale. By night, he would sleep in the jail, but by day, he’d earn his keep by working under guard with with the street crews.

The King of Dale was pleased at all they’d managed to accomplish, but at the end of the proceedings, Bard waved, mumbled a greeting to his family, and headed straight to his chambers.  When Hilda went to check on him, she found him face down on top of the blankets, fully-clothed, and fast asleep.  She took off his boots, and covered him with a blanket, kissed him on the brow, and looked down at his sleeping face.

“Your Mam and Da would be so proud of you, love,” she whispered, she shut the door.

*******************

**City of Dale, 19 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

Thranduil's idea of making the Welcome Feast for the Galadhrim a small, orderly affair for invited guests was quickly thrown out the window by Hilda.

“Nope. If they’re going to live here, we might as well throw them in to the deep end of the lake,” she had reasoned, and once again, the Elvenking rolled his eyes and cursed her for always being right. 

Word went out of the party’s scheduled arrival in Dale and the folks decided to make an afternoon of it and began to line the streets.  After so many years of a grey and dull existence, after so much death and destruction, these folks liked _any_ excuse to celebrate something that could mean hope for the future. 

And, they had to admit, they were curious.

Shortly before the Elves were due to arrive, Bard came out of his room dressed in his best finery, and felt his heart leap in his chest. 

“ _Ada’s_ coming soon, Da.” Sigrid came over and smiled at him.  She looked beautiful in her best afternoon dress, with her hair pinned back.

“And how do you know that, darling?”

“Because you get this smile on your face every time you think of him.  And you’re doing it.”

“Doing what?”

She pointed to his chest.  “That.”

He looked down and saw he was absent-mindedly rubbing over his heart.  “Oh.”

“ _Ada_ did it, too.” She grinned up at him.  “During the winter, when he would miss you.”

“He did?” Bard grinned down at his smug daughter.  “You notice a lot, don’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

“My darling girl…” Bard hugged her tight.  “I know I’ve been too busy.” he sighed into her hair.  “I’ve no idea when things are going to slow down, either.  I’m sorry about that.”

“That’s all right, Da.  We’re all together, and we have _Ada_ now, too.”

He rested his chin on her head and sighed.  “Thanks,” he whispered.  “Tilda needs a lot of attention, but don’t think for a minute I love you any less.  I know you’re growing up, but don’t do it too fast, yeah?  Leave some little girl for me?”

“Always.” She promised. 

Just then, the bells rang from the Western Gate, and they both looked up and smiled.  Bard walked down the corridor clapping his hands. 

“Come on gang,” he called cheerfully.  “ _Ada’s_ bringing our guests!  Hurry up!”

Hilda bustled out of her room, straightening her collar and made sure her hair was pinned up properly.  “Let’s go, kids!  Turamarth, go get others, will you?”

Soon they were assembled on the dais, in front of the curved archways of the pavilion at the top of the steps.

“Let me look at you…”  Hilda checked Bard up and down, then adjusted his collar, and arranged his cloak so that it swooped up over one shoulder.  “There.  Now you look dashing.”

“Hil, you don’t need to fuss so much; I look fine!”

“And now you look better.  Tilda, you’ve got a smudge on your cheek…” she licked her fingers and washed it off, then twirled her around readjusted a button on the back of her dress.

“Thanks Auntie Hil.  _Ada’s_ coming, right?”

“Yep.” Percy said.

“Where’s Tauriel?” Hilda looked over at the rest of the Guard.  “Isn’t she –“

“Here!  I am here!”  The Elf ran out of the Hall. 

“Well don’t you look nice in your armor, lovey!”

“Auntie Hil!” Bain rolled his head.  “Armor’s not supposed to look _nice!_  She’s _supposed_ to look scary and powerful!”

“Well, _I_ think she looks nice,” Tilda stuck out her tongue at her brother.  Then she called over to her older sister, “You look nice, Tauriel!”

“Thank you _Gwathel_.” The Elf called back, and took her place beside Turamarth.

“Nyah,” Tilda made a face at her brother.

“Shut up, Til,” Bain hissed.

“Children!” Bard sighed, “could you at least _pretend_ to act like Royalty in front of our guests?”

“You heard your Da!” Hilda said sternly, as she walked up and down in front of them, inspecting them carefully.  She went over and yanked the side of Alun’s tunic down, and brushed some something off Evan’s shoulder, and pushed Bain’s hair out of his eyes. “Now stand up straight, all of you, and by the Stars, _behave!”_

“Yes, Auntie Hil,” everyone replied, like she was a drill sergeant, even the including the grownups.  Evan snickered, but a look from Hilda wiped the smile off his face.

“Sorry, he muttered.

“Now, this is our first diplomatic visit and I want _everybody_ on their _best_ _behavior_ , do you hear me?” Hilda lectured.

“Don’t the Dwarves count?” Bain asked.

“Shush!  You know what I mean.” 

“Don’t worry, love,” Percy smirked.  “I’m sure they’ll know right away who _really_ runs this Kingdom…”

“Stop teasing me, Pers.”  She gasped put her hands on her cheeks.  “Oh, my Stars!  _What are the dogs doing out here?”_

“Thangon goes where I go.” Bard frowned. “And Esta's not causing any problems!”

“But how will it look?”

“Come on, Hil.” Percy urged.  “They're fine, and we all look great.”

She rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Fine!  Just make sure they behave.”

 _“Harë!”_   Bard ordered, and the dogs sat.

"Told you," he muttered.

The cheers from the crowd signaled the party’s approach.

“Here they come, folks,” Percy said, of the corner of his mouth. "Put on your happy faces!"

Hilda called over to the Elves, “Go ahead, Feren; do your stuff!”

“Yes, My Lady.” The Commander stepped forward.   _“Lîra!”_ He ordered in a sharp voice, and with amazing precision, every Elf present moved into formation and stood perfectly still at attention. 

“ _Ooh!_ _There he is!_ ” Tilda cried, and tried to bolt, as the horses appeared. 

“Oh, no you don’t.” Hilda grabbed her hand, “you stay right here, lovey.”

"Come on, Little Bean."  Percy, quickly grabbed her other arm, or she would have run right down in the midst of the horses.

“ _Ada!  Ada!”_ She screamed and waved, despite Percy’s iron grip on her. “ _Look! There’s Uncle Galion, too!”_

Poor Hilda’s hope for decorum quickly fell by the wayside, as all the children were soon waving and calling out to Thranduil.  Esta joined in the excitement, and started to bark and wag her tail.

“WOOF!” Not to be outdone, Thangon contributed his own thoughts. “WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!”

 Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hilda pinch the bridge of her nose, and Percy’s shoulders began to shake with laughter.

“Oh, well.” Bard put his arm around her shoulders. “This was how we are in Dale, and if the Galadhrim don’t like it, they can always go back home.” He kissed her cheek.  "Didn't you say something about the 'deep end of the Lake?'"

 

Finally, they came around and dismounted, and his tall, blonde Elvenking was in front of him.  He winked at Thranduil, but greeted him formally, and of course all the proper introductions were made. 

Hilda had been fussing at the children all morning to show good manners, and they behaved perfectly, though Sigrid _was_ a tiny bit tongue-tied at the sight of these handsome Elves.

But when each blonde Galadhrim, smiled down at Hilda, the Seneschal of Dale could only blush and fumble over her words.  When she met Rúmil, she clasped at her chest.  “My lands; you’re so…tall…”

Bard had to chew the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, and he could see Thranduil biting his lip.  Bain and Percy didn't didn’t bother try to control themselves.

Then it was time for Bard to give a short speech to welcome them and to invite them to the Feast tonight.  After a short response by Rúmil, the company were dismissed to get settled.

Percy grinned and took Hilda by the shoulders.  “Come along, ‘Hot Stuff.’ You can flirt with the Elves later.”

“Percy!  I was _not,”_ she smacked his chest, _“_ flirting!”

“Sure, you weren’t.  Hey Evan!” He called. “Looks like you’re going to have find someone else to fuss and pamper you, lad.  My girl has lost her heart to another.  Which one was it, again?”

“Why you…” Hilda gasped in horror, and meant to really let her husband have it, but he grabbed her, and kissed her soundly.

“Just so you don’t forget,” he grinned, and from her smile, Percy could tell she hadn’t.

Bard shook his head at the two of them, while Thranduil carried Tilda to the back, followed by the children. “Have you two made up?”

“You boys will be the death of me; I swear.”  Hilda sighed.  “Now shoo, while I talk to Cook. Go on with you!”

 

At the appointed hour, the people showed up in the Great Hall for the Feast, each bringing a dish to pass and their own table service (as per Dale tradition).  The kitchen staff had set up buffet tables along the side wall, and Cook had made a few dishes of his own.  Galion had given him recipes for some favorite dishes of the Wardens, to help them feel at home.

“So, Rúmil,” Bard asked the Elf next to him.  “I hope you’re settling in all right.  Are you comfortable with Turamarth?”

“He is much like Lieutenant Daeron, My Lord.  I must admit, I am not used to living on the ground, and there is much going on.  Things are much quieter in Lothlórien, but I am sure I will become accustomed to it.”

“Men can be a noisy bunch, but these are good people, for the most part.  I hope you like it here.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

Bard smiled, as he looked at the folks laughing and talking, as they ate.  There was Feren, with Dafina on his hip, and Tauriel and was taking the Galadhrim around from table to table to say hello, and help them get acquainted.  

“Tomorrow, you will be taken around the city to get your bearings, then I am told Feren will give you your work assignments a few days after.”

“Yes, that is my understanding.  I look forward to it.”

“I hope you mean that in a good way,” Bard grinned.  “We’re still getting our bearings, but I think we’ll do all right.”

“I look forward to getting to know your people this year.  Before Lord Thranduil shared the recent history of your people, I had heard much from Mithrandir.  I have always had a curiosity to see the world, though my duties to my Lord and Lady must always come first.  I was happy for the opportunity to serve both.” He smiled as he took a drink, then looked down at the cup.  “This wine is very good.  Is it the same as what is served at the Palace?”

“Oh, yes.  It’s a particular favorite of my husbands, so Lady Hilda makes sure we stay stocked up.  I prefer something a bit lighter, like Ale.  My advice?  Go easy on that stuff, until you get used to it.”

“I will keep it in mind, but you should try my brother Haldir’s homemade wine; it is not for the faint-hearted!”

 

Later that night, Bard and Thranduil said goodnight to the children.

“I’m glad your back, _Ada_.” Tilda told him.  “Don’t go away so much.”

“I wish I could promise you that, but I must look after my people.”

“But I’ll miss you.” She pouted.  “I should come with you.”

“No, _Tithen Pen_ , what about all your friends at school?  And Miss Eryn?   I am afraid we both have responsibilities.  But I am back now, and I will walk you to school, tomorrow, yes?”   He kissed her forehead.  “Say good night to Da while I see to your sister.”

“Good night, Little Bean.”

“Night, Da.  Thanks for walking me to school while _Ada_ was away.”

“I hope I did a good job.”  He blew a raspberry on her cheek.  “ _Ada’s_ right.  Get some sleep.  You had a big day.”

“I liked the party.”

“I did, too, but now it’s time to settle down, all right?   As soon as _Ada_ and Tauriel take the dogs for their walk, we’ll bring Esta back, all right?”

After they said good night to Bain, Thranduil kissed him.  “I will be back in a while, _Meleth_.”

“I’ll be here.” Bard knew Thranduil especially wanted this time to speak to his daughter privately.

 

Bard was in bed reading, when Thranduil came in.  “Well, how’d it go?”

“I think she was pleased, though she was surprised,” the Elf said.  “She was not expecting to ever come back to the Palace, and she still argued against a lighter sentence.” The Elf smiled proudly.  “I explained that that alone was reason enough to change things.  The Council was persuaded she truly understood the gravity of her actions, and the extenuating circumstances.”

“I thought she’d be mad it was going to be ten long years.”

Thranduil came out of the washroom and finished removing his clothes.  “Oh, _Meleth_ , you still do not grasp an Elf’s concept of time.  For Immortal beings, ten years is nothing.”

“Oh, right.” Bard sighed.  “Still, I can’t think that way, even now.”

“Why is that?” The Elvenking pulled back the covers and crawled in beside him.

“Because,” Bard sighed.  “Ten years from now, Sigrid might be married.  Tilda will be nearly grown, and Bain will be off in the Army.”

Thranduil put his arms around Bard.  “Of course, you are right.  I am sorry, _Meleth_ _nîn.”_

They turned toward one another and kissed. 

“I missed you, Bowman.”

“I missed you, Elf.”

Thranduil took his face in his hands, and opened their mouths with a long, hard kiss which made them both moan.   Bard’s hands snaked down between them and began to stroke their cocks together, and in no time at all, their sounds became urgent.

Thranduil broke the kiss to reach into the drawer in his side table for the oil, and soon Bard’s hand was joined by the Elf’s slick one.  “I cannot wait, Meleth.  I have missed you too much.”

Together, they thrust against each other, as they kissed each other on the mouth, neck and ears.  Bard moved to run his tongue along the side of Thranduil’s ear, then began to suck on it.

The Elf moaned, but he wasn’t about to neglect his Bowman, so he began to rub Bard’s chest and play with his nipples, as Bard urged him on with groans of approval.

Their movements became fast and urgent, and soon, Bard was coming with a soft cry, and clung desperately to him, as a dozen strokes later, Thranduil let out a loud moan and spilled over their hands.

“I hate it when you go away.” Bard tried to settle his breath.

“I hate it when I leave you,” Thranduil whispered, as he cleaned them both off with a towel.  “But when we are together again, it is wonderful.”

“It is,” Bard nuzzled into his neck. 

They got up to wash thoroughly, then put their sleeping clothes back on.

“Don’t,” Bard said, when Thranduil picked up his nightshirt. “Just the leggings.  I like to feel you.”

The Elvenking smiled.  “That is well, for I like to be felt.”

Bard got in bed, opened his arms and maneuvered Thranduil into their sleeping position. “Mmmm,” he hummed.  “I’ve missed holding you.” He kissed the back of his Elf’s neck. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever asked: do Elves normally need as much sleep as Men?”

“Not necessarily.  But I sleep more now, because I treasure this.  As much as I love making love with you, to be held this way feeds my _fëa_.  I am warm, safe, and feel very much loved.”

“I like that.  I hope we still feel this way after a few hundred years.”

“I will make sure of it.” Bard could sense the Elf smiling in the dark.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 24 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

Both Kings were surprised that Tilda hadn’t joined them in the night, but counted their blessings, as they woke up early, and made love properly, and sweetly.

At breakfast, the chatter was a welcome noise, and if the smile on Galion’s face was any indication, he had missed it, too.

Tauriel wiped her mouth and got up. “Sigrid, Bain, please go get your things, and we will take you to school.”

The school for the older children was bigger, and it had been decided that the guards for the Prince and Princesses would stand inside the building, but outside the each of their classrooms.  Of course, Sigrid and Bain didn’t like it, but Tauriel had been charged with their safety, and would not tolerate any argument.  Neither would their fathers.

Sigrid shrugged her shoulders and got on with things, but one afternoon, a few days after Thranduil returned to Dale, he heard Bain and Tauriel yelling in the Sitting Room.

It was the first real disagreement among the siblings in their blended family; the newness of their situation was beginning to wear off, and warts were starting to show.

“I take your safety seriously, and this is what is going to happen!” Tauriel insisted, as she crossed her arms.  “You can speak to _Ada_ or your Da, but they’re going to agree with me!”

 “But Tauriel!” Bain tried to argue some more, “It’s hard to be singled out like that!”

“And I sympathize, but you are Crown Prince of Dale, and it is my job to see that you are protected!”

“Well, it bloody well stinks!” The boy yelled.

Thranduil came out of his office into the sitting room.  “That is enough!  Tilda is napping, and I do not want her disturbed! What is going on?” 

“Ask her.” Bain angrily pointed to Tauriel.

“I am _asking you!”_

“I’m sick of Guards following me wherever I go!” The boy scowled.

Thranduil sighed.  “Your sister is following orders, and you can argue with her for weeks, but it will change nothing, _Ion nîn_.  Even if you did not have Tauriel or myself in the family, your Da would still assign each of you a Guard.  That is not hers, or anyone’s fault.”

“What’s going on in here?”  Hilda burst into the room wiping her hands. “I can hear you from the kitchens!”

 “I’m sick of being so different, Auntie.  The other kids don’t have guards, and it just stinks!”

“So, you have said,” Tauriel crossed her arms.

“Can’t do a thing about that, now, love.  You’re stuck with it.” Hilda searched his face. “This isn’t like you, Bain. What’s the matter?  Are you having a hard time a school?”

Bain looked down at the floor and didn’t answer.

“Bain?” Thranduil asked with concern.  “What is wrong?”

“Let’s everybody sit down, and –“  Hilda began.

“No offense Auntie Hil, but could I talk to _Ada_ by myself?”

Thranduil was surprised.  “If that is what you wish.  Come.” He took the boy to their bedchamber, for some privacy.

“I am happy to help you in any way I can, Bain,” the Elvenking told him, as they sat down by the hearth.  “Are you sure you do not wish to speak to your Da?”

“He and Uncle Percy are too busy with the harvest, and he’s tired.  I don’t really know if you can help, but I don’t want to talk to Tauriel or Auntie Hil.”

“Why not?”

“Well… they’re _girls!”_

 _“Ah._   In that case, I’ll see what I can do.” Thranduil said.  “I must tell you, if you have questions about what changes your body might be experiencing –“

 _“NO!”_ Bain held his hands up in embarrassment. “No… I mean… Da already talked to me about...  that… so…”

“Fine, fine, fine…"   Thranduil couldn't help his relief.  "That is good…”

 They both sat in awkward silence for a few moments, until Bain finally said, “Maybe Elves don’t have this problem…”

“Perhaps you could tell me, and we could find out.  If I cannot help, I will tell you so.”

“All right,” the boy sighed.  “Just promise you won’t tell the others, please?”

“I cannot keep secrets from your father, Bain.”

“That’s okay.  Just nobody else.”

“You have my solemn vow,” the Elvenking put his hand over his heart.  “Provided no one is in any danger.”

 

As it turned out, the problem was this:  Some of the girls in Bain’s age group had developed crushes on the Crown Prince, and he didn’t like it.  _At all._

“These girls are flirting with you?”

 Bain made a face and nodded. “It’s awful.  The worst part is, they don’t even know me, _Ada!_   They don’t like me for _me_.  I’m a Prince and that’s all they care about!  Now my friends are teasing me for a having all these ‘girl friends’ when I haven’t even talked to them!"

“Hmmm…” Thranduil sat back, and tried not to smile.  “And you think having visible Guards only encourages these girls?”

“Well, yeah…  I mean, it makes me look too important and official.  Maybe if I didn’t have them, they’d treat me like everybody else.”

“Bain, you cannot blame Tauriel or her Guard unit for this.  Even if they were out of sight, those young females would still act the same.”

“Why?”

“Because you _are_ the Heir to the Throne, _Ion nîn,_ and that is not going to change.” He smiled at the boy.  “You are also a _very_ handsome young man.  Naturally many are going to find you attractive.  I wish I could tell you they will go away, but the truth of it is, it will only get worse from here.”

“Oh, no…” Bain put his head in his hands.  “Did you ever have this problem?” 

“Unfortunately, yes.  Like you, they were more attracted to my position, than me.  A few were put up to it by their parents, to gain status in Court.”

“What did you do?”

“My father advised me to avoid them whenever possible, but _always_ be polite; rudeness would only give them leverage.” He winced.  “I admit, this took practice.  You also need a small circle of friends you can trust.  When I was young, Commander Feren and I made sure we stuck together, so neither of us were cornered.  I also had my guards.” Thranduil gave him a meaningful look.  “Tauriel and the others can prove useful if you let them, Bain.  They are not there simply to protect you from harm; they are there to _help you.”_

“How?”

“If you find yourself in a situation, use a signal.”

“A signal?” 

“Yes.  Sit down with Tauriel and figure out a word, or a hand gesture, that only you and your Guards know, then if you find yourself in an awkward situation, they can extricate you.” 

“I never thought about it that way…”   Bain shook his head and moaned.  “I just never thought stuff like this would be so hard…”

“Oh, my son,” Thranduil chuckled, “even if you were _not_ a Prince, learning how to deal with the opposite sex would be difficult.  Or the same sex, if you are so inclined, though I do not think you are.”

“I’m not.” Bain was uncomfortable. “I mean… I don’t think so…”

“Do not worry; there is time to figure all that out.  Just know that we love you, whatever the case.  But for now, keep in mind that your Guards are to help you.  I also want you to know something else.”  Thranduil gave him a pointed look.  “This bad behavior can go both ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“You cannot let people take advantage of you, but do not – _and I **mean** this, Bain_ – do not _ever_ use your position as Crown Prince to take advantage of others, is that clear?”

Thranduil leaned forward in his chair. “You will be tempted, many times, but you _cannot_ use anyone like that, especially a young woman.  The consequences could not only devastate her, but it could threaten your reign as King for several generations.”

 “I’d never do that!”  Bain sat back, eyes wide.

“As a member of the Royal Family, you _must_ maintain the highest moral standards.  Your Da is right when he says, ‘We don’t follow examples – we set them.’  Never forget that, because if you do, you will have handed your enemies a weapon with which to destroy you, and endanger your Kingdom.

“Royalty is an immense responsibility for all of you, and I am sorry for the constant weight of it.” Thranduil smiled.  “But I think you can do this, Bain.  And your Da and I will support you every step of the way."

Bain sighed.  “There’s so much to all this!  It all seemed so great when Da told us he was King...”

“It still is, _Ion nîn_.  You must understand, growing up is difficult no matter who you are.  In many ways, you have it harder than the rest, but you also have more support.  On the positive side, you will have exciting adventures, Bain.   You will go places and see and do things most of the other boys will not.  The rewards can be worth the difficulties.” 

Bain got up.  “I’m sorry I yelled.”

“You are welcome.  Now, please go and apologize to your sister, and speak to her about signals.  Please also keep in mind that she does not Guard you merely because I have assigned her.”  He raised an eyebrow at his son. “She does it because she loves you very much.  You need to remember that.”

“I will.” The boy put his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder and squeezed it, before he left the room.  

 

When Thranduil related the conversation to his husband later that night, Bard sighed. “I was wondering when that was going to start.  I think we should sit down and have a talk with Sigrid, too.”

“I believe she and Hilda have already spoken over the winter.  She was feeling unsure of things when we were at the Palace, and needed a woman’s perspective.”

“Ah.  Well, I’m not surprised.  Hilda’s essentially her Mam, and I trust her.” Bard made a face.  “She’ll have young men lining up to court her, before we know it.  Tilda will, too.”

“Let us be thankful our daughters are surrounded by Elves with weapons.” 

“They also have an _Ada_ with a fierce reputation, and an _entire Army_ at his disposal.”  Bard took off his robe and crawled into bed with him.  “I’m just glad **_we_** got together right away.  Can you imagine if we hadn’t?  Ulmo’s balls, I can hardly keep up with work as it is!  I don’t have time to fend off attention from women who dream of being the Queen!” Bard shuddered.

“Fathers all over Middle Earth would have paraded their poor daughters to be judged like livestock.”  Thranduil gave him a sympathetic smile.  “I felt it was my duty to save you from such a fate.”

“So…” he grinned at the Elf, “you married me out of pity? I knew you were going to _help_ me be a King, but this was quite a sacrifi- Hey!”

Bard laughed as he fended off an attack from Thranduil’s pillow.  “What was that for?  I was just saying I was grateful!”

Thranduil smacked him once more, then pinned him on his back as he straddled his hips.  “If you think I married you, just to keep you out of the clutches of ambitious females, _you_ ,” his mouth hovered close to Bard’s, “would be _absolutely correct,_ Bowman.”

Bard’s clever response was forgotten, as Thranduil kissed him thoroughly.

**City of Dale, 30 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

It was hours before dawn, when the Kings’ bedroom door was slammed open.

“DA!  _ADA!!”_ A small voice cried at the top of her lungs, as little legs ran in place.  “DA!”

“WOOH!!!” Bard jerked awake and sat up, swaying.  “Wha? Wha?”  His hair was sticking out in all directions, and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.  “Whassa matter?  What happened?  _OOOF!”_

A tiny, wiggly body landed on his stomach (and other parts), squealing like a piglet

“ _Amarth faeg!”_ Thranduil sat up, startled. _“Ci vaer, Tithen Pen_?”

“Tilda! Wh... whas wrong?”  Bard squinted at her.  “…you hurt?” Still drunk with sleep, he began to feel her arms and legs, and checked for injuries or broken bones.

“NO!” She threw her arms up in the air.  “It’s _today,_ Da!”

Bard squinted at her.  “Wha’s today?”

“MY BIRTHDAY!  I’m not seven anymore!  I went to bed last night when I was SEVEN, then I woke up, and now I’m EIGHT and it’s my birthday and my party is TONIGHT!  _A real party!_ ”

The Elvenking groaned, flopped back down and closed his eyes. _“Your_ daughter is awake much too early, _Meleth nîn.”_

“Why is she _my_ child, in the middle of the night?” Bard scrubbed his face and looked out the window.  “Beanie… it’s still dark out!  You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Da-a!  I can’t sleep!  I woke up and I even waited a long time, really I did!  Besides,” she reasoned, “if I’m awake early, then my birthday will last longer!”

Thranduil yawned, reached over and grabbed their youngest and made her lay down next to him.  “You must calm yourself, my little love.  You know what Daeron said about getting excited.”

“I know, _Ada_ , and I really, really tried, but I never had a _real birthday_ _party, and I’m going to have TWO of them!”_ Her voice was a high-pitched squeak.

“You are?”

“Uh huh!” She grinned from ear to ear.  “Cook told me yesterday he wants to make cakes for my class at school to give to everybody!  And Auntie Hil says we’re going to have a party here, and EVERYBODY is going to come!”

“That is very nice, and you must be sure to thank Cook, but Tilda.” Thranduil tried to reason with her, “it is much too early for us to be worrying about this.  You are not due to get ready for school for another…” he looked at the Water Clock on the dresser by the wardrobe, “ _Ai! Two hours!”_

“It’s that early?”  Bard muttered.  “Bloody f—”

Thranduil jabbed him hard with his elbow.  “Language, Da!”

“Well, what do you expect when I’m woken out of dead sleep?  Just give me a second to put my heart back in my chest!”

Tilda became very still, and her eyes got wide.  “Sorry, Da.”

Thranduil gave his husband a dirty look, and gathered her close.  “Da is not mad, _Tithen Pen_ , but you startled him.  In the future, you must always remember that such things are for emergencies.”

“What’s that?”

“It means only when someone is sick.  Or bleeding,” Bard laid back down and closed his eyes.   “Or a fire.  Or a flood.  Or if the Eagles come.  Stuff like that.”

“Oh,” she said with a small voice. 

 “Of course, your birthday is _very_ important, _is it not, Da?”_ The Elvenking took two fingers and flicked his husband on the forehead. 

“Ow!”  Bard sat up again and yawned, then stroked Tilda’s hair.  “I’m sorry, darling. I don’t mean to be grumpy.” He kissed her.  “I’m just really tired, that’s all.”

“You have _never_ had a party?” Thranduil asked.

“None of us have, except for Sigrid.”

“Why not?”

  “We were too poor.” Bard answered for her. “But Hilda and Percy would come over and we would have a pie or something.” He tugged at Tilda’s braids.  “Now, remember the rule: only gifts from family.  We don’t want gifts from the people, right?”

“Uh huh!  That’s why Cook is making the cakes.  I want to **_give_** my friends at school presents.”

Bard smiled sleepily. “I think that’s wonderful Little Bean,” he yawned, “but could we talk about this at breakfast?”

Thranduil got up and put on his robe.  “Come, _hênig_.  A little girl only has one eighth birthday in her life, but your Da has been working long hours and needs his rest.” 

He picked up the birthday girl and carried her to the door.  “Let us go into the sitting room and talk quietly, until everyone wakes up, shall we?  _Ai!”_ The Elvenking exclaimed, when he saw her bare feet. _“_ Where are your robe and slippers, _hênig?_  Tilda, you _really_ must not forget to put them on…”

Bard listened to his Elf whisper to Tilda, and smiled, as he snuggled down to get a few more hours of sleep.

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Ion nîn –_ My son

 _Amarth faeg_ – Evil fate (Elvish for “Holy Shit!”)

 _Ci vaer, Tithen Pen –_ Are you well, Little One?

 _Hênig_ – My child

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben urges Rhian to consider her possibilities.  Thranduil shows Bard something he received in the post, and Letters from the Golden Wood arrive!
> 
>  

 

 

 “The scariest thing about distance is you don’t know if they’ll miss you or forget about you.”

- **Nicholas Sparks**

****

**City of Dale, 30 th of September, 2942 T.A.**

“Here you are, love,” Hilda handed Rhian a plate with a piece of Tilda’s birthday cake.

“Thank you,” she put it down in front of her, then fed a small piece to Darryn. 

~o0o~

 

> At nine months he was getting so much bigger, and now that he was crawling, her little boy hardly stayed in one place!  Lord Thranduil laughed and told her Darryn reminded him of Prince Legolas when he was small, and he felt sorry for her when the child started to walk.
> 
> Thankfully, Ben presented his grandson with a playpen a few weeks ago, which made her life easier.  He was an active, curious child and wanted to be involved in everything his Mam was doing, but it made for a few dicey moments when she was trying to cook or tend the fire.
> 
> Rhian loved to spend time in their garden, and when she set up his pen outside, she could set to weeding without worrying about Darryn wandering off, or putting unsavory things in his mouth.  As long has he had his favorite blankie, he was content to nap, or babble at his stuffed toys.

~o0o~

“Mmmm…” Darryn said, as he munched on his cake.

She smiled at the baby, “Not too much for you, young lad; or you’ll be up at night.”

“Oh, come on; can’t he have a little more?” 

“Good evening, Lady Rhian.” It was Evan, Lord Alun’s assistant.  “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” she gestured.  “Please.” 

The man sat down across from them, and smiled as he tickled Darryn under the chin. “I see you are both enjoying the party.”

“I am.  Please, just call me Rhian.  I’m still not used to having a title, and I didn’t earn it, except to be adopted by Da.”

“I didn’t know he’d adopted you.” Evan was surprised.  “You seem like father and daughter so naturally.”

“Oh, he’s actually a cousin of my Mam’s, but he and his wife were always good to me. After my Mam died, I stayed with him and his wife Cristyn a great deal of the time.” She smiled at him.  “I was thrilled when he wrote me to ask if he could adopt me, and the King was kind enough to grant our request.”

“Well, though I know my opinion shouldn’t mean much, I think it’s wonderful.”  He saw that Darryn was reaching out to be held.  “May I?”   

“Aye.” She handed her baby over to him, and saw Evan hold him with expertise.  “I see you’re used to babies.”

“I am.  My older sisters have children, and I’ve always enjoyed being an Uncle.”

“How many sisters do you have, Evan?” 

“Two, and they are much older.  I was a bit of a ‘surprise’ to my parents later in life.” He grinned.  “I have seven nieces and nephews, and they keep their parents on their toes.”

“Where are your parents?”

“They died a few years back.  A fever swept through our village during the winter, and took them, as well as several more.”  He took Darryn’s spoon and fed the baby a bit more cake from Rhian’s plate.

“Oh, I am sorry, Evan.”  Rhian sympathized.  “That must have been awful.”

“It was,” the man looked down thoughtfully.  “But at least they were spared a life without each other.  They were devoted, you see.  I doubt either one of them would’ve lasted long if only one had passed.  Papa and Mama were good to us, so I’m mostly grateful for the time I had with them,” he smiled at Rhian.  “Ben is like that with you.”

Rhian nodded.  “He’s a treasure.”

“I was sorry to hear of your husband’s death in the fires, Rhian.  But I can see this little one,” Evan smiled at Darryn, “helps you remember him.”

Rhian froze.  She was stunned, and she didn’t know what to say.  

Of course, Evan meant well; he was merely offering condolences which was only proper, and he obviously knew nothing about Garth. But no; she should let memories of that man ruin her evening.  She _wounldn’t!_ But still, the mere mention of her late husband turned her mood around.

He saw the look on her face, and was stricken, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean –“

“Oh, no; you’re fine.” She got up quickly.  “It’s just getting to be Darryn’s bedtime,” she gave excuse.  “I need to get him home.”  Rhian held out her arms and he handed the baby over.

“Rhian, please; I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I know.” She gave him her best smile.  “Please; stay and enjoy the party.”

“Are you sure?” The man clearly felt terrible, but at the moment, she found she couldn’t explain, and didn’t think she could, even if he asked outright.

“Evan,” she said, “it’s not your fault.  You did nothing wrong.  Please…”

“All right.” He nodded, with concern in his eyes, then bowed.  “Good evening, My Lady.”

She curtsied and left to go find her Da.

When she reached Ben, he was sitting with Bard, who had Tilda sitting on his lap, talking to Alis, Commander Feren’s daughter.

“Hi, Rhian!” the little girl said.  “How do you like my party?”

“I like it,” she smiled.  “Did you have a good day?”

“Uh huh!  Thanks for my present.”   Rhian had knitted some small sweaters for Charlotte, her Elf-doll Meriel, and a small saddle-blanket for Daisy, her stuffed Elk.

“You’re welcome.  Are you about ready, Da?” 

“Aye; it’s about that time, isn’t it?”  Ben got up and bowed to Bard.  “Good evening, My Lord.”

After paying courtesy to the Kings and saying goodbye to Tilda, Ben and Rhian walked home.

“I should have ordered a carriage; it’s starting to get chilly at night.  I don’t want the little lad to get sick in the night air.”

“Nonsense, Da.” Rhian assured him.  “I’ve got him wrapped up just fine, and our house isn’t far.  But,” she shifted him in her arms, “next time, I’m going to do what Anna and Daffyd did and bring a pram.  When Owena fell asleep, they just settled her in.”  She grinned.  “I think the kids look a little better, don’t you?”

“Aye.  Bowen is still struggling mightily, but I’m not surprised.  I think that dog is good for him.  I noticed when the younger kids got a bit lively, it got to be a bit much for the boy, and she put her head in his lap and pestered him until he smiled again.”

“There were a lot of kids like Bowen at the Palace, Da.  Too many, who missed their Mams and Das and…” she shuddered.  “Lord Thranduil and the Elves used dogs and cats a lot to make them smile.”

“Pets are good for you.  Although,” Ben laughed out loud, “our Floyd scared the life out of me, when he first arrived at the Great Hall.  My lands, Percy teased me about it for weeks!”[1]

“Oh, I heard all about that,” Rhian smiled. 

“Did you have a good time, my dear?  You look a little… unsettled.”

“Oh, I’m fine; please don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?   You were having a good time talking to Evan.  Darryn seemed to take a liking to him.”

“Darryn likes everybody,” she smiled and leaned against his arm, as she balanced the baby on her hip.

“I know, sweetheart.  You’re upset but you don’t want to admit it.” Ben stopped and took Darryn from her.  “Come on, lad.  Settled down for your Grandad, yeah?” he held the baby to his shoulder and started to rub his back.  “Crikey!  This boy gets bigger every day!”  

Once Darryn stopped wiggling, Ben asked her, “I know something happened to upset you, love.  Tell me; I want to help.”

“It’s just…  Evan has no idea what happened with Garth, and he meant no offense, but he thinks I miss him.  I didn’t know what to do…  What do I say?” She asked.  “I don’t want to lie, but I don’t know how to tell him that my husband’s death was the best thing that ever happened to me?  It would make me sound cruel!”

“Not if he understood, love.  Look: it was bound to happen, Rhian.  So far, everyone around here knows what Garth was like, so you’ve dealt with questions like this.  Do you want me to talk with him?”

“I don’t want to make him feel bad, but if he felt sorry for me, I think that would be worse.  I’ve been trying hard to get better, but I don’t want pity.”

“Evan’s a good lad, and I think he’d understand.  My feeling is, someone’s bound to tell him, and I’d rather it be from you or me.”

“In that case, could you say something to him?”

“Aye.” He patted her hand. “I’ll do that, love.”

She breathed a sigh of relief.  “Thanks Da.”

“This brings to mind something I’ve been thinking about, lately.” Ben said, thoughtfully.

“What’s that?”

“Well, your year of mourning will be up after the end of October.  What does Hannah say about you stepping out with someone?”

“Oh! We haven’t talked about it at all, really.”  Rhian was surprised.  I haven’t really thought about that.”

“Maybe that‘s for the best.  You’ve had a lot on your mind, and we’ve just set up house here, but I don’t expect you to be chained to your life there, should something come along.” He looked at her carefully.  “I was thinking…  Evan seems a nice young man with prospects, sweetheart.  Oh, he hasn’t got a hardly a cent now, but soon he’ll be a man of some means, but...”

“I love my home, Da!” she leaned on him.  “I don’t want to move!”

“Course you don’t!”  Ben said quickly.  “And I don’t want to see you go, but you’re a lovely young woman, Rhian.  We haven’t really talked about it, but I want you to know that if and when you meet someone...”

“Da.” She stopped and looked up at him.  “I’m _not leaving you!_   Not when I finally have you, and the home of my dreams!  Sure, it’s not done, but I want to get the top floor finished, and the gardens…  I _love_ the gardens, Da!  I’ve got it all planned out…”

Ben knew she was dissembling, but humored her.  “I’ll leave you to it, then.  You’ve got good judgement and taste, so let me give you a budget, and as soon as orders from the shops catch up, you do us up a proper home that’ll rival even the Elvenking’s Palace.”

But Ben wasn’t finished, and returned to the subject at hand.  “The thing is, sweetheart, because you’re a widow, it’s not expected for suitors to ask my permission, but  as your Da, I’d like to  give my consent before any man comes to call on you.”

He looked at her carefully.  “Now, I want you to know I’m not trying to control you, sweetheart.  It’s just that Phylip was no good as a Da, and I need make sure you won’t be harmed.  I’ll never let a man like Garth come anywhere near you.”

“I know that, Da.”

“The day will come when you _will_ be ready for a man to court you, Rhian.” He took her hand. I don’t want you to be afraid to try love again.  This time around, you’ve got me, Hannah, Daeron and everybody up at the Castle to look out for you.” Ben laughed.  “I feel sorry for anyone who wants to call on you!”

 “That’s true, I suppose.” Rhian couldn’t help but smile.  “I just don’t think Evan, or _anybody_ thinks that way about me.”

“And why not?  You’re a beautiful girl, and smart as a whip.  Any man would be lucky to have you.”

“But I’m…” she paused.  “I was… hurt.”

“You mean to say you’re ‘damaged goods?’  Don’t be thinking of yourself like that.  Don’t let anyone think of _you_ as such either.  Any man who would think that, isn’t worth your time.”  

 

After they arrived home, Darryn was quickly put to bed, and her Da went soon after.

“Good night,” he kissed her cheek.  “Have a good sleep.”

“I will.”  She was sitting by the fireplace in her robe, with a shawl around her shoulders.  “I’m just going sit here and read for a while, then I’ll go to bed.”

 

A while later, her book was open in her lap, but she was still looking into the fire, thinking.  

She _did_ like Evan well enough. He was a friendly, handsome man with dark hair and piercing green eyes.  He was honest, and popular with the folks here, and Lady Hilda looked after him like he was a son, despite Lord Percy’s teasing. 

Until tonight, she’d never considered where her life might go from here, besides raising Darryn and taking care of Da. 

As the image of Evan’s face filled her mind, she began to wonder…

 _Could_ her life be more?

 

***************

  

The Royal Family was at the doors to the Great Hall, saying good night to their guests. 

“Thanks for coming!”  Tilda said to Maddox, as Bain was talking with Bowen, making plans for going riding after school this week.

“Thank you for inviting us, My Lord.” Anna and Daffyd said to Bard.  Baby Owena was already asleep, in her pram. 

“Would you like an escort home?” Turamarth offered. 

Anna smiled.  “I think the boys would like that.  Bowen?” she called over.  “Are you ready?”

“Coming, Anna.”

“Rúmil, you’re welcome to come, if you like.”

 “I am still finding my way around the city, and would enjoy the walk.” the Warden smiled at the woman.

“Bowen?” Maddox asked.  “Can I hold Beriel’s leash?”

“Sure,” Bowen smiled down at his brother.  “Just don’t let her pull.”

 

After they left, Bard and his daughter thanked Feren and Glélindë for coming.  Dafina was almost asleep, against her _Ada’s_ shoulder, and they all smiled down as Tilda and Alis embraced.

“See you at school!” 

“Bye!”

Bard took her hand as they walked through the Great Hall and into the back.  “Did you have fun, Little Bean?”

“Uh huh.”

“Me too.”  He stooped down and kissed her cheek.  “How does it feel to be eight?”

“Bigger!” She smiled happily up at him.  “Sorry I woke you up so early, Da.”

“Oh, that’s all right; you just startled me, that’s all.  I’m just surprised you stayed awake as long as you did.”

After they tucked the birthday girl and her siblings in bed, Thranduil and Tauriel went for their evening walk.  Just as his Elf looked forward to special time with his daughter, Bard found himself looking forward to this time alone to unwind and throw off the day.

And when his husband entered their bedroom, he also enjoyed how his stomach did a little flip.

“So…” he put his book away. “Our daughter is a year older.”

“I wish you would not put it like that,” Thranduil winced.  “Still, it was a pleasant gathering, and she had a good time.” 

The Elf was still standing in the middle of the room and made no move to get ready for bed.

”What is it, love?” 

“I received something from the Palace this morning, but I did not want to show it to you until after the party,” the Elvenking said softly.

 “What do you mean?”  Bard looked at him warily.  “Did something happen?”

“No, everything is fine, but I did not know how you would react, so I thought it best to wait…”

“You’re scaring me, love.”  Bard got up out of bed and went over to him.  What’s going on?”

Thranduil opened a drawer to his dresser and pulled out an envelope.  “Back in the winter, when I first brought the paintings of Mírelen from storage and had them rehung, Sigrid had said something to me about missing her mother.”

“Of course, she misses her Mam,” he said.  “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There is not, but she lamented that she had no pictures of her.  I also began to think that Tilda might like to know what her mother looked like.”  

The Elvenking hesitated, and bit his lip.  “I hope you do not think me, presumptuous, _Meleth nîn_.  I wrote to Brandir, Lord of Dorwinian, back in January,[2] and when I did not receive a reply, I completely forgot about it…” he hesitated.  “I had asked him to make some inquiries about your wife’s family, in hopes that someone might possess a likeness of her.”

“And?”

Thranduil handed him the envelope.  “This was his response.”

Bard took it, and opened the letter, and began to read:

 

> _Greetings Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Greenwood:_
> 
> _First of all, I want to congratulate you on the occasion of your marriage, and would also like to extend the same to the new King of Dale.  I plan to either send an envoy to that city next spring, or come myself, which I would prefer, as I would like to see this place everyone is talking about…_

“Brandir did write, by the way,” Bard interjected.  “I got a letter with his congratulations in February, but he made no mention of this.”

“I had asked him not to, as it was to be a surprise.” Thranduil explained.

“Ah.”  Then Bard went on to read the rest of it. 

 

> _Matilda Bainiel of Dorwinian was a delightful child, and her parents were well thought-of in our land.  Bain and I grew up together, and unfortunately, he had no other family left at the time of his death, and his possessions were either sent to Matilda, or lost._
> 
> _I remembered that Matilda’s mother, Beccah had family in Rohan, namely an Aunt who used to visit quite frequently, and doted on the child.  I took the liberty of sending inquiries on your behalf to King Fengel but received no response, which did not surprise me, I am sad to say…_

“Why would he say that?” Bard asked. 

Thranduil sighed.  “King Fengel is not a popular or even a good king.  He is the youngest of three sons, and only rose to the throne because his older brothers, who were identical twins, died in battle.  Thengel, his son and heir, despises him, and lives in Gondor with relatives of Queen Mafalda’s family.  To use your terms, he is an arsehole.” He smiled at Bard.  “Not everyone lives up to his heritage, but I am glad you did.”

“Thanks,” Bard smiled, then continued:

 

>   
>  _Luckily, Lady Maud, sister of King Fengel found my request in a stack of paper, several months later, and made inquiries of her own.  Matilda’s great-aunt had died some years ago, leaving everything to her nephew **[3]** (and brother to Beccah).  _
> 
> _His daughter, and Matilda’s cousin remembers Lord Bard fondly, as she was present when they first met, and was kind enough to search her father’s house and found this in the attic.  It seems the Aunt had talent with a paintbrush.  Apparently, Matilda was a particular favorite of hers, and did the portrait the year Matilda came of age at eighteen._
> 
> _It is my sincere hope that this will give her children as much comfort as possible, sad as it is to lose such a beautiful mother._
> 
> _I am and I remain, My Lord,_
> 
> _Your humble servant,_
> 
> _Brandir III, Lord of Dorwinian_
> 
> _P.S.  On behalf of the family, I am authorized to tell you the painting is theirs to keep, and may it bring them joy._

Thranduil reached into the drawer again, and pulled out a large, flat package, wrapped in several layers of soft cloth.  Bard felt his heart start to pound. 

“You mean that’s…” he pointed to the package.  “She…  It’s _her?”_

“Yes.”  Thranduil said, quietly.  “It’s quite good, and I would like to show it to you, but I will not force you.”

After Bard nodded, the Elf sat down beside him, and slowly unwrapped it.

_And there she was._

“Oh…”  his could feel is face crumble, and he covered his mouth.  “Oh, gosh…”

Mattie was standing next to a archway, covered in flowers, and smiling at the artist.  She was young, but the joy and high hopes she had for her life were captured in those cornflower blue eyes, which perfectly matched her dress.

 “She was beautiful.” Thranduil put his arm around Bard.  “Mattie was everything you described, and more.  When I looked at her face, I saw our Sigrid.”

Bard’s eyes began to water, as he traced the lines of her face.  “She was.  I…”

“What is it, _Meleth_?”  Thranduil whispered.

Bard smiled through his tears.  “This is my Mattie…  It’s exactly how I remembered her the day we met, when I heard her sing.”  His voice broke.  “She’s wearing the same dress, Thranduil.   It’s the exact same dress!  I’ll never forget it…  All I could think was how it matched her eyes, and when she looked at me…”

Memories came flooding back to him.  She had the same look in her eyes when she stood with him and recited their wedding vows, and when she held Sigrid and Bain just after they were born.  It was the same look when she lay beneath him, and whispered loving words to him as he made love to her.

Thranduil held him closer, and kissed his temple.  “Are you all right?”

Bard nodded, as he leaned into his husband’s embrace, and tried to get his breathing under control.  “I’m sorry.  It’s just that...”

 “Do not be sorry, _Meleth nîn_.  Remember, it was _you_ who comforted me the night I received my necklace from Dáin.”[4] The Elvenking smiled.  “And as I recall, you who said that sometimes we would miss our wives, but it had nothing to do with how we feel about each other.”

Bard rested his head on Thranduil’s shoulder and sniffed.  “I did say that, didn’t I?  It’s true, you know.”

“So, you are not angry?”

“Oh no.”  Bard quickly wiped his eyes, though his hands were trembling a little. “No, love…  This is wonderful, really.  It’s just… it’s been long time, and I wasn’t expecting it…”  He lifted his head and smiled at his Elf.  “What do you plan to do with it?”

“I was hoping I could make copies for each of her children and present them at Yule, though I think Sigrid should have the original.  I’d like to make a smaller one for Hilda.  Would that be all right with you?”

“It’s better than all right,” Bard managed to say, before he set the painting behind him and pulled his husband into a tight embrace.  “They’ll love it.”

A thought occurred to him, and his throat tightened once more, and he buried his face into the Elf’s neck.

“What is it?  Are you sure you are all right with this?”  Thranduil was concerned.  “If not, I want you to tell me, Bard.  Please.” The Elf’s blue eyes searched his, with concern and the beginnings of regret.

“I was just thinking,” he wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  “I fell in love with Mattie with my whole heart.  And then,” he lifted his head and smiled, “I did it again, with you.  How lucky am I?” 

 

***************

 

**Lothlórien, 15 th of October, 2942 T.A.**

It was the night of the Harvest Festival in the Golden Wood, and Daeron was enjoying himself.  He could see Elion chatting with some of his new companions, and the brothers Amrol and Haden laughing with several Ellyth.  Elinel and Amrin were sharing a dance, and smiling shyly at each other - it seemed a romance was blossoming between the two of them.

He watched Amrol and Haden a while and smiled.  As cousins, he and Turamarth looked a great deal alike, and shared many mannerisms, yet Amrol and Haden were twins, but couldn’t be more different.  The one thing both pairs had in common was an unshakeable bond.

After their initial meeting with the Lord and Lady, their Welcome Feast was a surprisingly merry one, much like in the Woodland Realm.  Lord Celeborn toasted their guests and Daeron was called upon to give a short speech, extending King Thranduil’s greetings to the Golden Wood and conveyed his high hopes for a successful year.

His growing friendship with Orophin was an easy, relaxing one, and his description of Haldir was accurate; he was pensive and a bit broody (much like himself).  Still, they had spent several evenings on the balcony of their shared home, sharing stories of their lives, and Daeron found that he liked Haldir very much, and could see why he was so respected by not only his Lord and Lady, but his Wardens.  

The Guard’s musings were interrupted by a cheerful voice at his side.

“Good evening Lieutenant. How have you been?” Airen, the Elf who helped escort them here, sat down beside him.  She was wearing a long green gown and her blonde hair was falling softly around her shoulders.  It was the first time he had seen her out of uniform, and he decided she was lovely.

“I am well, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  How did your tour at the borders go?”

“Unexciting, this time, I am glad to say.” She reached for some fruit on the platter and set it on her plate.  “When is your first tour?” 

“Not until next month.  Elion and two others will be going this week. 

“I hear you have impressed the Wardens with your prowess, especially with a bow and arrow.”

“Thank you.” He grinned.  “Although I am glad my cousin is not here to hear you say that.  He would take offense, I fear.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Very much so.  But this is not the first time we have worked in different places.”

“Is he a Healer as well?”

“No, though he is trained to deal with injuries, as are all the Guardians.”

“Your family is very close?”

Daeron nodded, and told her of their parents, and a few stories of their misadventures at the Palace when they were children.

“I can see you love your home, but I think you miss Dale more.”

“I do.”  He took a long drink, and told himself that, just for tonight, he would forget the image of a beautiful woman in Dale with long curly brown hair, with a smile that lit up his world, and eyes pierced his heart.

He would not think of her.  He wouldn’t.

Airen put her hand on his arm.  “Forgive me, _Mellon nîn._ I do not want to make you sad, not when there is lively music, and dancing.”  She smiled as she pulled him up. “Come; allow me to show you some of the steps…”

 

*******************

**LETTERS FROM THE GOLDEN WOOD**

**To Thranduil from Daeron:**

 

> _Suilaid,_ _Aran nîn_ ,
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you and your family well, and that Lady Tilda continues to improve.  I am sure Elénaril is taking good care of her, though I would still caution you to make sure she gets the proper rest, with no strain on her heart._
> 
> _I am happy to report we arrived here safely and without incident._
> 
> _Aside from a slight snafu about housing, we are all settled in comfortably.  I was mistaken in the idea that the rest of the Guardians would be living in the barracks here, but it was arranged for us all be housed in the Talain of the Galadhrim.  I am pleased, as it will allow all of us to fully experience the culture of this Realm, as I am sure you wish for us._
> 
> _Eilinel and Elion had each been mistakenly placed with an Elf of the opposite gender, which is against the custom of the Elves here (only those who are married, or living with relatives do this) This was easily corrected, and they have both settled in nicely._
> 
> _Since our arrival, we have been working with Haldir, Orophin and the rest of the Wardens, doing drills, sparring and spending hours at the archery range.   Not only does the Marchwarden want to test the mettle of your Elves from the Woodland Realm, he wants them to work intensely with his own troops, so we can learn to know each other’s moves and to help us depend upon each other.  Trust is growing between the Guardians and the Galadhrim, and Lord Celeborn is pleased.   I am pleased with the performance of our Guardians, My Lord, but I am not surprised.  Commander Feren chose them well, Aran nîn; and this group is not only talented, but adaptable, and they are a credit to our Realm._
> 
> _Most of the Guardians will be leaving for the fences soon, however I will be spending a great deal of my time with the Healers, as they peruse my notes.  Most of them are very open to this, and have many questions._
> 
> _On a personal note, My Lord, I want to thank you for giving me this opportunity.  Here in the Golden Wood, I find a lightness in my heart, as if many of my sorrows are had been left outside the gates.  I do not fully understand this, yet I welcome it._
> 
> _It is my earnest hope that I can represent our country in a positive sense, Aran nîn, and I will do my best not to disappoint you._
> 
> _I remain, as always, your humble servant, Aran nîn._
> 
> _Lieutenant, Daeron Adamarion_

_* * *_

**To Ermon and Elénaril from Daeron:**

 

> _Suil, my esteemed colleagues and friends:_
> 
> _I wanted to write and tell you of my dealings with the Healers of Lothlórien, but first, I must pass along good wishes from Master Healer Ausir, who remembers you fondly from your visits accompanying King Oropher as well as King Thranduil.  He did not hear of your marriage to Elénaril, but was pleased that you joined with someone of the same calling.  I believe his exact words were, “I often thought he would be happier with a good wife by his side.”  Naturally, I extolled your wife’s praises, personally and professionally and as a good friend!_
> 
> _I brought several of my journals with me, especially those from my many years serving Dale before the Dragon came, and the Healers here found the subject of delivering human babies fascinating, as well as treatment for the many diseases I had encountered in my years there.  They were also interested in our treatment of the many burn victims we encountered both then and now, as victims of the dreaded Smaug._
> 
> _They, of course, have the same books we have (written by Lord Elrond), but they have paid me the kindest compliment of telling that my notes and logs make a fine addition to these texts, and would I consider writing a book!  I am flattered, of course, but cannot contemplate such a thing – I am a Guard first, and my time here must be spent on the duties for which I was invited._
> 
> _I hope you are both well, and please give my kindest regards to my many friends in the Healing House of Dale._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Daeron_

_* * *_

**To Turamarth from Daeron:**

 

> _Dearest cousin:_
> 
> _It has been almost a month since we arrived, and we have settled in nicely.  Our journey took roughly seven days, and it was free of problems, to our great relief.  I found our escort to be friendly and full of information for those who did not know the history of some of the places we passed on the way._
> 
> _When we arrived, of course we were taken before the Lord and the Lady, and all the rumors of her beauty and powerful presence were true.  I had never met someone who had been nurtured under the light of the Two Trees, whose strength is that of the Ancient World!_
> 
> _Oh, Tur!  To say we are living in the trees does not begin to describe these immense Mallorn that make up much of this land!  Each tree is the width of a house, and the steps wind around them to get to the Telain (they call them “Flets” in Westron) that have been built here._
> 
> _At night, Caras Galadhon is lit up with silver lamps as if we were living among the stars, and the singing starts.  I so wish you could see this wonder for yourself, someday, Gwador.  It will leave you breathless._
> 
> _I will write to the King, of course, but I want to relate what happened as we left the West Gate of the Realm:  these Galadhrim paid tribute to Queen Mírelen as we left the Greenwood, which I found touching._
> 
> _Our Guardians have received a warm and enthusiastic welcome by almost everyone here!  It seems we are a bit of a novelty, as many of the Galadhrim have never seen Elves with Auburn hair, and their tongue spoken with a different accent.  Many of them see us as a curiosity – they thought all Silvan Elves had blonde hair!  It seems the only dark-haired Elves they have encountered are Lord Elrond, and his children from Imladris, and the Noldor Elves there._
> 
> _I can also tell you with some humor that many members of the opposite sex find our accent and our mannerisms “charming,” is how one Elleth put is, as she asked me to dance at our Welcome Feast we had here.  I am picturing you laughing as you read this, Tur, but these Elves do like to flirt!  I honestly think they are so light-hearted because they are surrounded by such lovely and peaceful country.  _
> 
> _Gwador, the songs from the trees here are like nothing I have ever heard, but as lovely as it is, I mourn the silence of our sleeping forest, and pray even more earnestly for the day we can wake them up again and hear them sing once more.  I pray that you and I can be there to see it, Turamarth._
> 
> _I have become friends with a member of our escort, whose name is Airen, though I have not seen much of her - she has spent most of my time here at the borders.  The Wardens work on a twenty-day on, ten-day off schedule, which works well, as it takes so much time to reach the fences and to return.  This is not much different than our own tours as Guardians, though our tours were usually longer for the same reason._
> 
> _I am staying with Orophin and Marchwarden Haldir, and as I am sure Rúmil has told you, Orophin is lively, and likes to laugh.  Haldir is not a bad sort at all, though he is more pensive than his brother.  I suspect Orophin has made it his duty to lighten the Marchwarden’s moods with his smiles and jokes.  He reminds me of you, Gwador, and I see the respect and love in just about everything Orophin does for his brother.  I am touched to see this, at it makes me miss your constant presence._
> 
> _I assume you are enjoying your time with Rúmil, as he is reputed to be neat and orderly.  It makes me laugh to think picture the two of you in our apartment.  What is it like to not constantly be picking up after someone?_
> 
> _Haldir and I get along well, and usually spend our evenings on the balcony of our Talan sharing stories of our adventures.  The Marchwarden is a great deal older than his brothers, and has raised Rúmil since he was a child, as I am sure he has already told you.  He has traveled much more than I have, as head of the Escort for our Lord and Lady.  He has regaled me with descriptions of Imladris and Mithlond, where Círdan is Lord of the Havens, to Gondor and even Rohan, though there are almost no relations between those lands and Lothlórien._
> 
> _I would love to see all those places one day, would you not?_
> 
> _I have not worked at the fences yet, though the rest of our Elves will leave next week.  Most of my time is with the Healers, speaking to them of my experience and answering questions._
> 
> _I will tell you (confidentially) that there is one Healer named Penlod, who is very much against our presence here, and does not agree with the idea of better relations and service to the outside world.  Of course, he will do as he is ordered, but he makes no effort to hide his displeasure. I am resolved to give him a wide berth, and continue to serve my King as requested._
> 
> _Tell me: how does the young boy Bowen and his family fare?  I have thought of him frequently, and I still think you need to watch him carefully, as the type of melancholy he is suffering from does not go away in a short time._
> 
> _I now understand how Commander Feren suffers from such frequent separations from his family, especially since he and ‘Lindë adopted the girls.  Darryn is a part of me in a way I cannot explain, and if you see him, please hold him and tell him how much I long to see him.  Of his mother…  I try not to think of her.  Not because I feel any less, but because I need to pull away, so I can function here.  I think you understand._
> 
> _I hope to hear from you soon, Gwador, as I am anxious to hear about you, all the news from home._
> 
> _Daeron_

_***_

**To Rhian from Daeron:**  

 

> _Dear Rhian and Darryn,_  
> 
> _Greetings from the land of the Golden Wood!  I wish there were words enough to describe Lothlórien to you.  Perhaps Lord Thranduil would have a book of pictures, that he could show you.  He could even draw them, as he has visited here numerous times._
> 
> _I, and the rest of my unit, are quickly becoming accustomed to the rhythm of life here, and in many ways, it is easier:  In Dale, we are frantically busy trying to build a City, and establish a new life. In the Woodland Realm, we are just as busy fighting the spiders, and other foul creatures, as we care for our sleeping forest._
> 
> _Here, Hind Calen, it is so peaceful, so green, and so quiet.  I will admit that took some getting used to!  There are very few children here, and no Men at all, so things seem rather sedate.  I am living in a beautiful home which we call a Talan (a “flet” in Westron) with the Marchwarden of Lothlórien, and his brother.  _
> 
> _Have you met the members of the Galadhrim, yet?  What do you think of them?_
> 
> _I have been fortunate to make the acquaintance of many Elves here, and we are as much a curiosity to them, as I am sure the Wardens are to you all._
> 
> _As much as I am enjoying myself, I have a mission to accomplish, and I will do it to the best of my ability.  I will spend several tours throughout the year doing my duty at the borders of the Realm, then spend the rest of the time, collaborating with the Healers here to familiarize them with the ways of Men._
> 
> _Lord Celeborn has told me that he plans to invite the Lords from several of the nearby villages to meet with him just outside our Gates, and speak to them about the welfare and safety of their people.  It is imperative that these villages remain strong and well-defended, much like Lord Thranduil does with the people of Dale, with the help of the Dwarves._
> 
> _Not everyone here supports this, of course, but it is my fervent hope that in time, they will be convinced of the wisdom of the Lord and Lady’s convictions._
> 
> _I must know, my dear friend:  how is our boy?  How is little Darryn?  His face is constantly in my thoughts, and I miss him like I miss a piece of my own heart.  I miss you as well – shopping for food is not nearly as much fun, without you and the little one to walk with me peruse the shops._
> 
> _I am sure you have noticed the package I have sent you…  Please, find a place in your garden to plant these bulbs, and when they bloom, will you think of your friend who is far away but always near you in his thoughts and prayers._
> 
> _Look after yourself, Rhian and kiss your beautiful son, for me, and tell him I love him._
> 
> _My fondest regards,_
> 
> _Daeron_

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Suilad Thranduil, Aran i Eryndôr Aranarth_ – Greetings, Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm

**NOTES:**

[1] From “What Makes a King,” CH 32:  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/27221007>

[2] From CH 7 of “And Winter Came…” : <https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026709/chapters/27875265>

[3] This was the same uncle to had schemed to marry Mattie off to the Master of Laketown.  He also lost two teeth, when Mattie’s father punched him in the mouth!  “What Makes a King, Ch. 8:  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/24724698>

[4] “What Makes a King,” CH 18: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/25779882>


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Evan's and Rhian's friendship deepens, Daeron runs into a bit of trouble in the Golden Wood...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to remind you, Evan is from East Bight, which is located on the Map of Middle Earth, off the Southeast portion of Mirkwood. 
> 
> To make things interesting, picture him speaking with an Australian accent. Or, to make them even more interesting, picture a young Hugh Jackman...

 

“Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it inflames the great.”

― **Roger de Rabutin de Bussy**

 

**City of Dale, 20th of October, 2942 T.A.**

It was warm today, and Evan whistled as he left work.  He liked to stop and take a few minutes to enjoy the view from the top of the city, before he began his walk back to his apartment.  He loved the warm, ecru tones of the buildings, the bright red roof tiles, and the winding cobblestone streets that meandered up, down and through each neighborhood.  It was a new and exciting place to him, much different from the farming village of East Bight, where he had grown up.   Evan took a few deep breaths of the crisp, Autumn air, as listened to the peaceful sound of the water flowing from the fountain in the courtyard.

He felt like the luckiest man alive. 

As was typical this time of year, Dale was enjoying a bit of a warm spell, and Evan could see the people bustling through the streets, and children on the sidewalks laughing and playing, as they took advantage of the weather, before making ready to bundle up for the winter.  

With a hum of satisfaction, he smiled, then made his way to Ben’s house, where he knocked on the door. 

No answer.

“Hello?” he called out.  "Hello!  Is anyone home?"

“I’m in the back yard!” he heard her call.

He followed the stone path to find the girl kneeling on an old blanket, with her curly brown hair pinned up, digging in the dirt.

“Hello, Evan.” She sat back on her heels, smiled and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Sorry I didn’t answer the door.”

“You look like you’re having fun,” he smiled.

“I am.  I really love gardening, and this…” she swept her arm out, “is going to be just beautiful next year; I can't wait!"

“I believe you.  I wish my Mum could see this.” He shook his head and laughed.  “She was a wonderful woman, but couldn’t keep a plant alive to save her life.  Dad would tease her about her ‘black thumb.’  My sister Nelly wouldn’t even let her stand next to the plants in her own house, in case Mum would ‘infect’ them.”

“Oh, dear,” Rhian giggled. “How’d she take that?”

“With good humor, as she did most things.  She and Dad loved to laugh, especially at each other.”

“You were blessed, then." Rhian wiped her cheek, accidentally smudging it.  “So, what brings you here?  You’re done at the Castle for the day?”

“I am, but Ben isn’t.  He asked me to tell you he’ll be working late, tonight.” 

She nodded.  “Thanks for letting me know.  I’ll bring him some supper later.”

“I doubt he’ll be there.  Seems there’s a problem with the drains down by the South Gate, so he and Lord Bard will be down there for most of the evening.”

“Well, it’s always something, I suppose.” She shook her head and sighed.  “Winter will be here soon, and I’ll be happy to see him slow down a bit.”

“Ben loves his work, though.  Your father a genius at design, especially all those apartment houses.  His floor plans make excellent use of space and the ladies love all the new closets and shelves.”

“That’s true.  I’ve never seen Da so happy.”

“Oh, I suspect his daughter and grandson have a little bit to do with that.”  He looked at the patch of soil.  “What are you working on?”

“This!” she held up a small sack.  “Daeron sent me these bulbs from the Palace with a note that made me promise to plant them together.  His mother brought them with her when she came last week.”

“Which one is Daeron’s mother?”

“Idril.  She was teaching classes in the Great Hall kitchens, remember?”

“Oh, right; she’s his mother, huh?”  Evan sighed wistfully.  “Great cook…  I was always sent home with a basket of something tasty. She has a twin, right?  Turamarth’s mom?”

“Aye,” Rhian nodded, as she patted down another mound of dirt.  “Indis is Daeron's aunt.  She stayed with me at the Palace, after the baby was born.” 

“How is Daeron doing?  Have you heard from him?”

“I got a letter from him a few days ago.  He’s settling in, nicely, and getting used to the slower pace there.  There aren’t any humans in the Golden Wood, so hardly any children.  Oh!  He says they live high up in these giant trees, as wide as our house!  I can’t imagine that, can you?”

“That would be a sight to see.  It’s not the same around here without Daeron.  I know everyone at the Castle misses him.”

“So do I.  He’s my best friend, really.” She smiled fondly as she dug another hole with her trowel.  “I’m an only child, and I’ve always wanted to have a big brother.”

Evan gave no evidence of the relief that washed over him.  He liked the Daeron and Turamarth a great deal, and didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes.  He found himself increasingly intrigued by Rhian.  She was a beautiful, intelligent woman, and he wanted to get to know her better.  If something happened from there, well, then...

Whatever happens, Evan had decided, he wanted to be her friend.  He was going to bide his time for a bit, and see how things develop. 

She jerked her head toward the bench.  “Have a seat and keep me company while I work.  I want to get these in the ground before Darryn wakes up.”

“I’ve got a better idea.  Why don’t I help? Here,” he tugged at the blanket she was kneeling on.  “Make some room for me.”

“Evan, you’re in your nice clothes!  I can’t let you –“

“So, move over and I won’t ruin my leggings.  As far as my hands…”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his riding gloves.

“Oh, blast!  I wish I’d thought of that,” she held up her grimy fingers.

“Next time.  Or, you could tell yourself you like the feel of the soil in your hands.”  He smirked. “Now, let’s get this done.”

As they worked, their conversation was easy and relaxed, and soon, the work was finished. 

“There,” she gave the soil a final pat and stood up.  “There’s that done.  Come on in and wash up.  Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I wouldn’t turn that down.”  Evan took his gloves off.  “It’s getting chilly, so let’s go in, before you get too cold.”  He picked up the end of the shawl that had fallen off her shoulders, so she wouldn’t get it dirty.

“Hang on a minute,” he took his handkerchief handed it to her.  “You’ve got a smudge… right there,” he smirked.

“Thanks.”  She took it shyly and wiped it off.

They went through the back door, and heard Darryn babbling loudly in his crib.

“Is he always cheerful like that?” he asked.

Rhian rolled her eyes.  “He can be a real monster when he’s teething.  Or if he thinks he’s not the center of attention.”

Evan took in the sight of her filthy hands.  “Can I help you get him?”

“Sure.  In fact, since you know your way around babies, could you change him while I clean my hands, and put the kettle on?”

“Sure thing.”

He walked down the short hall and found the nursery just in time to see Darryn pull himself up in his crib to stand.

“Hey there, you!”  He called softly and went over and picked him up.  The baby blew a raspberry at him, then grinned, as he chewed on his finger.

“Ugh, Darryn!"  Evan’s nose wrinkled, and he made a face.  "No wonder you look so pleased with yourself.  Come on, then.” 

He cleaned and changed Darryn with experienced hands, and took care of the soiled diaper before he carried him back out to the kitchen.

“There he is!  There’s my little man!” Rhian gave her son a brilliant smile. "Were you good for Evan?"

"That depends, on your definition of 'good,'" he smirked.  "There was a 'gift' waiting for me in his nappy, but he behaved while I cleaned him up."

Rhian snickered, and shook her head at her son.  “Did you have a good nap, sweetie?  Did you?”  She pressed several kisses to his little cheek.  “Thanks for that.  I’ve got some cookies if you’d like a few.”

“Sounds good.”  He pulled out a chair and sat down with Darryn and looked around.  Rhian kept things neat as a pin, and well organized.   “This is a great house.”

“Thanks. It’s got a long way to go, but we love it.  We’re living on the first floor for now, till things slow down for Da.  He’s of the same mind as Lord Bard – get the housing ready for everyone else, then look to our own.”

“I heard about that.” He nodded.  “I’ll admit, I was surprised when I first started to work at the Castle, and saw the family crammed into the old servant’s quarters, but that shows Lord Bard’s quality.  I respect him for that.”

“It’s still a lot nicer than the houses in Laketown.  They’re a close-knit family and really don't mind," she smiled fondly.  "I know Lord Thranduil is enjoying he new family.  Tauriel loves it too, and the children adore their new older sister."

“What’s it like at the Palace?”

“Oh, it’s beautiful!  You should go, as soon as you have the chance, and see it for yourself.  Darryn and I were lucky enough to have an apartment near the Royal Family, away from all the hustle and bustle going on.” She lowered her eyes.  “I…  had a lot to recover from, so Indis looked after me till I got stronger.”

“Rhian,” Evan said softly.  “You Da told me a little of what happened, and I’m so sorry you were put through that.”

“I… just don’t want to dwell on it too much.  I just want to get on with my life.”

“I hope I didn’t upset you, at Lady Tilda’s birthday party.  I honestly had no idea –“

“You didn’t.” She assured him.  “Hannah’s been helping me a lot, and I’m doing so much better.  She comes to see me, and when she’s here, I bring it all out, and I’m learning to put it away afterwards, so I can concentrate on living my life today.” She winced.  “It isn’t always easy, but I’m getting better at it.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you; I am.” her lovely green eyes met his, and he saw the growing self-assurance in them.  “Hannah keeps telling me to accept compliments, instead of argue with them.”

“She’s right, you know.”

“I’m still working on that,” she shrugged.  “The most important thing is how my life is now, and Phylip and Garth don’t deserve even ten minutes of it.”

“That’s a brilliant way to think about it, Rhian.” He was astounded by her attitude and determination. “It really is.”

“It’s a day-to-day thing, but the days are getting better.” She smiled.

Just then, the kettle began to sing, so Rhian got up and fixed them some tea and laid the plate of cookies between them.

“Half of one, sweetie,” Rhian broke a cookie in two and handed it to Darryn.  “Any more will spoil your dinner.”

The baby squealed and eagerly reached out is hand and took it.   “Mmmmm…” he chewed happily, as he grabbed Evan’s nose.

“Brrf!” he cried, which made them both laugh.  “Brrf!”

 

***************

 

**Lothlórien, 4th th of November, 2942 T.A.**

Just about everyone here welcomed Daeron and his troops, but Penlod, one of the senior Healers, didn’t disguise his disdain, and was dismissive of the Guardian’s knowledge of treating the Edain.  Despite that, the Elf was hopeful. Perhaps in time, the naysayers would be won over by the accomplishments he hoped to make. 

Daeron had especially looked forward to their trip to the nearby village of Langhold, and spend several days treating their sick and checking on the overall health of their children.  Orlin, a young Healer was to accompany him, but his heart sank when the Master Healer decided Penlod would also go.

The two-hour ride there was awkward at first, and all attempts to engage the older, dark-haired Elf was met with stony silence, until the others shrugged and chatted between themselves.

Orlin was a young, and a new Healer, but what he lacked in experience he made up for in passion for his work and an eagerness to learn.  Since Daeron’s arrival in Lothlórien, Orlin had poured over his notebooks, and copied many of them in his spare time.  When he wasn’t doing that, he peppered Daeron with questions, especially regarding the race of Men.

 

They had arrived four days ago, set up in the Main Hall, and quickly got to work.  Each Elf was paired with a Healer from Langstone, who introduced each patient along with their history of illness.   It was an efficient setup, and it pleased Daeron to see the resident's willingness to be examined by these foreigners.

The children were a delight, of course, with their easy smiles light hair, and ruddy complexions from riding their horses, and playing in the fields.  The adults were a bit standoffish, which was to be expected, but were soon won over when they saw for themselves how these Elves worked.

So far, they had treated a great deal of coughs and colds in the children, and eased the rheumatism and arthritis in the old, as well as checked their heart function.  Still, they were a healthy group. 

The village grew their own food, and their last several harvests had been a success, so the villagers had access to a good variety of fruits and vegetables, to encourage their resistance to disease.  Still, the pockmarks on the faces of some of the older residents was a remnant of a terrible pox that had blown through Langhold almost forty years ago, killing almost a third of the population.

 

On the last afternoon working in the large, thatched-roof building, Daeron was pleased with what they had accomplished.  They were to enjoy a formal dinner that evening with the Mayor, and be back in the Golden Wood before sunset.

“Why do you dress different?”  One little boy asked him, as Daeron palpated his tummy.  His mother had brought him in, with a slight fever and pain in his abdomen.

“I am not from Lothlórien, child.  I live in a faraway place called Dale.”

“Oh. Do you like it here?”

“I like it very much, and I like you.”  The Elf smiled.  “My name is Daeron.  What is yours?”

“Lùcas.  I’m…” he held up his fingers.

“Five?  You are a grownup boy.  Does this hurt?”  

When the little boy yelped, it became clear an infection had begun in his appendix.

 “Can you hold him still, please?” he asked the worried mother.  Then he closed his eyes, and after a few minutes of concentration, removed the inflammation until the tissue was a healthy pink.

“You got all shiny.” Lùcas told him.  “Are you magic?”

“That depends."  Daeron stroked his brow.  "Do you feel better?”

“It don’t hurt no more.”

“Then I am magic.  Now,” he looked to the mother and handed her a pouch with some herbs.  "Keep him in bed for a couple of days, and put a pinch of this in his tea twice a day for a week.  If you have any problems, alert your regular Healer."

“Thank you.” The mother told him gratefully, and went over to pick her son up.  “Come on, pet.” 

“Daeron, could I speak to you?”  Orlin motioning to him. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

“I need to speak with you in private.”  The look on Orlin’s face was full of worry, so they walked outside and around to the back of the building, where Daeron stopped and waited expectantly.

“It’s Penlod,” Orlin began hesitantly, “Valar knows why he even came with us!  He’s been surly to the patients, and the Langholdian Healer assigned to him is fed up, because he does not want to listen to her!"

“Orlin, you must not say these things to me.”  Daeron cautioned. “If you have a complaint, you must go to the Master of the Healing Hall, or the Lady herself –“

“You are correct, of course, but Penlod has just examined a pregnant woman, and I think there might be something wrong.   I believe he is missing something.”

“But she is his patient!  I cannot –“

“Daeron, this is your specialty!  Please!”

He sighed.  “How am I supposed to do this?  He’s in the same room!”

“I will find a way to distract him, then can you quickly check her over?” 

This was a clear violation of protocol, and if he were found out…

“Are you _sure_ I could not try to get his permission to look at her?”

“If it were any other Elf, I would say yes, but Penlod is…  rigid.” Orlin looked at him, with trepidation.  “I know he could make my life miserable, and yours as well, but is that worth the life of a woman and an unborn child?”

Daeron rubbed his forehead and sighed again.  No.  It was not. 

They went back into the Meeting Hall, and when Orlin led Penlod away under the guise of asking for his help, Daeron dashed over to the woman in question and ducked behind the privacy screen.

“Greetings, My Lady,” he smiled. 

“Hello,” the young woman said, shyly.   “That other one told me everything was fine.  I am, aren’t I?”

“I am sure you are, but would you allow me to check something?” 

Daeron helped her lie back down, and was just about to place his hands on her belly, when the curtain was ripped open.

 _“What are you doing with my patient?”_ Penlod hissed in Sindarin.

He answered in the same tongue, but in a calm, soothing tone so as not to upset the girl.  _“I apologize, Penlod.  I was told she needed examining, and as I am experienced in this field, I was hoping I could assist you.  If you would allow me to –“_

_“I will not.   This is my patient and you will step back, is that clear?”_

_“It is,”_ Daeron said calmly.  _“Again, my apologies.”_

To the woman he said.  “I am sorry, but there has been a bit of a misunderstanding.” He gave her a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand.  “I wish you well, with your child.”

“You’re very kind.” She returned his smile, and looked warily at Penlod.

As he walked away under Penlod's scrutiny, he realized Orlin’s instinct about the patient was correct.

Something was _not right._

 

After the Elves returned to the Golden Wood, Daeron wasn’t surprised to be summoned before the Master Healer.

“I am outraged!  How dare he step in and take over my patient!” Penlod shouted.  “This… _Guardian,”_ his lip curled as he pointed to Daeron, “should be at the Fences, or better yet, back in Mirkwood, where he belongs, along with the rest of them!”

The Master calmly crossed his arms, and looked at Daeron.  “What have you to say, Lieutenant?”

“I apologize for the deception, but  –“

“It was my fault, Master.” Orlin interrupted.  “I begged Daeron to look at her.  If there is anyone to blame, it should be me.”

“But it was _I_ who agreed to it, and I take full responsibility for that."

“Why would you do such a thing?” The Master looked at them both. 

Orlin explained, “I sensed all is not well with the woman.  She is eight months pregnant, and I have been studying Daeron’s case notes –“

“I do not care!” Penlod was furious.  “I have been working in medicine for three thousand years and I will _not_ have my knowledge usurped by some interloper who does not believe in professional courtesy!“

“Enough, Penlod!” The Master’s rebuke was sharp.  “I understand your anger, and I do not dispute the fact that they should have asked permission.”

Penlod crossed his arms in vindication. 

But the Master Healer was not finished.  “I have also noted your animosity, and that is why I sent you along to Langhold.  Let me ask you, if Daeron had asked you, would you have allowed it?"

Silence.

The Master shook his head.  "You are an excellent Healer, _mellon_ , but there is _always_ more to learn, do you not see that?"

“I truly am sorry to anger you,” Daeron said again.  “However, I think Orlin might be right: all is not well with that patient.”

“How would you know?” Penlod demanded.  “You didn’t touch her!”

“Because _I know what I am doing!”_ Daeron finally lost his temper, and his hands clenched at his sides.  “Over the course of two hundred years, I treated over five thousand pregnant Women in Dale, and presided over the births of every Prince and Princess there for seven generations!” He shouted.  “I hated the idea of going behind your back, but my concern is for the patients, not _your ego!_

“I do not know your reasons for resenting our presence here, and I do not care.  The opinions I value are those of my King, and the Lord and Lady, and the Master Healer, and _I will_ serve to best of my ability, no matter what you think!”

Penlod’s face flushed with fury.  “How dare you!”

 “Silence!”  The Master sighed.  “All of you, now!”

Finally, Penlod seemed chastened and looked at the floor.  They all did.

“We will all calm down, and settle this, without shouting, is that clear?”

“Yes, Master,” they replied. 

“Daeron and Orlin, you should have paid Penlod the respect of speaking to him of your concerns, and at least offering to assist.  If he refused, then you could have spoken to me privately, and I would have investigated the matter.  Do you understand?”

“I do,” Orlin said. 

“I agree, as well,” Daeron nodded.

Then the Master addressed Penlod.  “I have worked with you for many years, _Mellon_ , and I am not happy with this, but your sour attitude helped to create this problem.  I was hoping by sending you along, it might help you change your mind.  You are a senior member of my staff, and my friend; I simply cannot understand this!  Can you tell us why you are so against this?”

Daeron could see the Elf’s jaw clench, but he said nothing. 

The Master sighed.  “Very well, your reasons are your own, but I expect more professional behavior from each and every one of you.   I _despise_ these politics and will not deal with them again!”

Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

“Now,” he continued, “let us focus on the patient at the center of this conflagration.” The Master turned to Daeron.  “What is wrong?”

“I do not know, sir.  I did not have the time for a thorough examination.”

“What did you see?”

“Her feet were swollen, which is not necessarily unusual, but these were to a degree that worried me.” Daeron turned to Penlod and asked, “Did you poke a finger into her feet or ankles?”

“I did not.”

He looked at Penlod intensely. “Did she complain of a headache at all?”

“Yes, and of course I eased her.  She seemed fine otherwise –“

“Was it a throbbing headache?”

“Yes…”

 _“Naergon…”_ Daeron’s face grew pale.

Orlin ran over to where Daeron’s notes were stacked and quickly began to leaf through the pages of one of them.

“What is wrong, Lieutenant?”  The Master asked.

“I think she may have a condition called –“

“Toximia!” Orlin cried. “Am I right, Daeron?”

“Yes.” 

“And that means, what, exactly?” the Master was concerned.

“It means if we do not go back to the village immediately, she and the child may die, if she has not already.”

“Surely not!” Penlod gasped. 

Daeron looked at the Master with silent pleading in his eyes.

“You two will leave immediately,” the Master addressed Daeron. “Gather whatever you might need and make ready to leave in ten minutes.  Orlin, you will arrange for an escort.”

“Of course.” Orlin dashed out of the room and his footsteps could be heard rushing down the steps of the building.

“Daeron sighed in relief, grabbed a clean bag and began to gather herbs, bandages and bundles with surgical instruments (just in case). 

“Master?”

It was Penlod, looking chagrined.  “I would like to go, if I might.”

The Master met his eyes for several seconds.  “I was hoping you would.  Do you agree to follow Daeron’s instructions precisely?”

“I…  Of course.”

Within minutes, the three Healers and their torch-carrying escort raced into the night.  An hour later, the lights of Langhold could be in the distance.  When they grew close, they blew their horns to announce their approach.

“Hello, the Gates!” one of the escort called out. 

“Who goes there, in the dark?” A voice called down to them from the parapet.

“We are Elven Healers of Lothlórien, and there is a patient who urgently needs our help.” Daeron answered, as the drew their horses to a stop in front of the wall surrounding the town.  “It could be a matter of life and death!”

The door beside the Gate opened, and a man with long, straw-colored hair came out, and looked at them. “I remember you.”  The man turned, cupped his mouth and yelled, “Open ‘er up, Colum!  They’re all right!”

“Thank you.  We are looking for a young blonde woman, heavy with child, by the name of…” Daeron looked at Penlod for help.

“Isbeil,” he told them.  “Her name was Isbeil.”

“I know the girl you mean.  She’s married to a friend of my son’s.  I’ll take you to her.”

“Daeron took his foot from his left stirrup and held out his hand.  “Here, get up behind me; we must be quick.”

He pulled the man onto the back of the saddle, and followed his directions, until they reached a cottage almost to the other end of town.

“That’s the one.” He pointed.  “It’s just the two of them; this babe will be their first.”

“I thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  I’ve got to get back, but best of luck to you.”

Daeron asked one of the Guards, “Please take him back to his post, then look after our horses.”  The three of them dismounted and ran to the door, with their bags.

A young man with red, shoulder-length hair opened the door, and there was a worried, harassed look on his face.

“I don’t know how you got here; I just thank Béma you did.”

“We are the Healers –“

“Aye, I know who you are, my wife told me.  I just sent for my mother, because Izzy’s in a bad way.  My name is Rob.”  He opened the door and they entered the comfortable sitting room.

“I would like to further examine your wife.  I fear she may be in danger.”

“Rob?  Who is it?” a female voice called weakly from the back of the house.

“Some Elves to help, love.”  Rob nodded to Daeron.  “Go, please.  Her head is killing her, and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll go right away.  Could you please boil some water, and fill several clean basins?  I need extra bedding, lots of towels and some soap.  Orlin will help you gather what we may need.”

“Right away.”  Orlin said, as he followed the young man into the kitchen.

 “Penlod, I may need your help,” Daeron said in a low voice, as they walked down the passage to the open bedroom.  “You must do exactly what I tell you, and be as calm as you can.”

The dark-haired Elf agreed, though clearly skeptical.

They found the young woman curled on her side, whimpering in pain.

“Isbeil?” Daeron said, softly. “Can you hear me?”

She looked at him through squinted eyes.  “My head hurts.”

“I imagine it does.  But I am here to help you.”  He quickly examined her, checking her breathing which was shallow and rapid. Then he put his hands on her heart and saw it beating rapidly.

“Can you lie still for me?” he asked her, as he gently urged her onto her back.

“Mm Hmm,” She whimpered.

“Put your hands on top of mine,” he quietly said to Penlod.

“Why?”

“You will see.  Just do it.”

He placed his hands on her belly, and felt his colleague’s grip.  “Now, close your eyes, concentrate, and I will show you.”

He breathed in and out several times, then concentrated. 

The child became alerted to Daeron’s presence and jerked awake.

_Suil, Tithen Pen; I am here..._

_Help me…_ the baby kicked her arms and legs weakly then was still.  The umbilical cord was in spasm from the stress on the mother’s body, so he spoke to it in Quenya and helped it to relax and encouraged the blood to flow freely.  In a moment, the child’s movements began again, and she was able to relax."

He heard Penlod’s loud gasp and the hands lifted from his. 

 _"_ It cannot be! How do you do this?”

“I will speak of it later, when we are finished.  I have made the child more comfortable, but the mother is in grave danger.”Daeron replied, then he poked his finger into one of her ankles and showed Penlod the dimple that remained in her flesh.  “Do you see this?  It is a sign that her body is full of fluid and her kidneys and other organs are under strain.  The pressure in her blood vessels is great, because of the extra fluid in her body, and it could cause her to have a massive stroke if we do not stop it."

“This is… Toxemia?”

“Yes.  Put your hands on her chest again with me.  Do you see how tight her blood vessels are?”

“I see…  What do we do?”

Just then, Rob and Orlin came in, carrying the requested items.

 “I have got another kettle heating, just for good measure,” the young man said.  “Is the baby coming?”

Daeron looked at Penlod, then asked.  “May we speak to you?”  Then put his hand on the Rob’s shoulder and led them out of the room.

“I am very concerned about your wife and child, Rob.  She has a serious condition called Toxemia, and the only cure for it is to give birth.  There is no time to lose.”

“Oh, Béma…”  Rob put his hands over his mouth.  “But, she hasn’t had any pains, yet.”

“That helps us.”  Daeron said calmly.  “I would like your permission to put her to sleep, and I will deliver the child within the next few minutes.  It is the only way, I am afraid.”

“How?” the man’s eyes were terrified.

“I will make an incision through her belly and remove the child that way.”

“What?  Y-you can’t do that!” Rob grew pale, and Orlin put his arm on the man’s shoulder to steady him.

“My friend Daeron is an expert in these matters, Rob.” The blonde Elf encouraged.  “No one this side of the Misty Mountains knows more about midwifery than he.”

 “We cannot wait. Please,” Daeron looked into his eyes.  “I have done hundreds of these, and I can promise you, I will not make a mistake, but if we do not act fast, Isbeil and your daughter have no chance.”

“Daughter?”

“The child is a girl, and she is not doing well, I am afraid.  We are running out of time, Rob, and I must ask you to decide quickly.”

“How long would it take?”

“The surgery itself could have the baby out and breathing on her own in five minutes.” 

Both Daeron and Orlin were shocked Penlod speak up.  “Daeron is a gifted Healer, and if anyone can save them, he can.”

“Go then,” Rob said in a small, thin voice and sank into a chair.

“I will look after him.” Orlin told them.  “Call out if you need anything.”

Daeron and Penlod wasted no time and were soon back in the bedroom with the door shut.

Isbeil could barely open her eyes and she was grabbing her head and writhing in pain.  “Am I going to die?”

“Shhh…  No child.” He sat down on the bed and stroked her forehead.  “Now close your eyes, and relax…” he began to sofly chant the _losta-luith_ , and soon, she was under.

While Penlod  undressed the woman and putting extra padding underneath her, Daeron laid out his instruments and prepared a place on a dresser for the infant.

“And the only cure for this is to give birth?”  Penlod asked, as they washed their hands thoroughly.

“Yes.  While I am working, you must make sure her lungs take deep, steady breaths.  Watch her heart as well.”

“I will.”

Daeron got to work, as Penlod handed him the instruments he requested.  Sure enough, a few minutes later, he was holding the tiny girl in his hands.

“Tie and cut the cord, quickly!”  

After the other Elf did so, the Guardian ordered, “Now call for Orlin to keep Isbeil stable, while we revive the child.”

He quickly bundled her up and took her to the dresser, and got to work, as Orlin rushed in and did what was asked.

"Come here, and I will show you."  Daeron explained. “Human babies often have fluid that must be removed for them to breath.”  He picked up a thin glass tube with a pump on one side, and showed Penlod how it worked, and within seconds her airway was clear.

The infant remained blue and limp, so Penlod watched as he put his mouth over her nose and mouth and blew three, oh-so-gentle breaths and massaged her chest lightly below her sternum with two fingers in a rapid, but stead rhythm until she stiffened and kicked her legs a little.

"What did you just do?" The other Healer was wide-eyed.  "Was she dead?"

"Not yet.  When a newborn is in this state, we must stimulate her system to help her draw breath.  Now watch and see what happens."  He began to rub her all over with a linen towel, until she finally inhaled and began to squeak.  The squeaks soon turned into high-pitched, lusty cries.

 _"Mê g'ovannen, gwennig!"_  The Lieutenant grinned.  "Welcome to the world!” 

"She lives!" Orlin breathed a sigh of relief, as he looked after the sleeping mother.

“She turns pink!” Penlod observed. 

“That is because she is breathing now.  Crying is good for these little ones.”

“Here,” he handed over the tiny bundle.  “Take her to her father, but watch her carefully for the next hour or so, while Orlin and I close Isbeil's incision.  We must closely monitor the infant's heart and breathing patterns, and if she struggles or changes color, alert me.  Tell Rob that I believe she will live, but we must stay the night to watch her carefully.”

“I will.” Penlod nodded, as he closed the door behind him.

As he worked, on a still-sleeping Isbeil, the Elf smiled at Rob’s delighted cries, which he expected, but he was shocked to hear Penlod’s voice, speak to the baby in low, soothing tones. 

Then again, he shouldn’t be.  Newborns of any race have a magic all their own, that even the Lady of Light couldn’t rival.

Daeron and Orlin worked together to close and stitch the wounds, as the Guardian explained the process.   Then they changed the bedding, washed and dressed her in a clean gown they found in a drawer.

“Come.  We must speak to her husband.”

Rob was sitting beside Penloth, and holding his new daughter with a look of awe on his face.

“How is my Izzy?” the man asked anxiously.

“She is well.   Her body needs a chance to rest, so I would like to keep her in a Healing Sleep until tomorrow morning.  We will sit with her throughout the night, just to be sure, and encourage the baby to nurse a little.   Your new daughter is small, and we need to watch her for a little while, but I think she is strong.”

“Thank you,” Rob heaved a sigh of relief.  “I can’t even tell you how scared I was.  She came down with a headache this morning and it just got worse and worse..."

"Do not think about that now.  Just focus on your new family and I will meet with the Healers here before we leave, to decide on a treatment plan.  Do you have family here?"

"Izzy's mum was supposed to come next week and stay until after the baby was born."  Rob said, as he gently stroked the little girl's cheek.  "I'll sent a message as soon as it's light out."

"That would be good."

 

Once things were settled, and the baby fed a little, she was laid on her mother’s chest with a blanket, which helped her settle down, then Daeron put a hand on Rob's shoulder.  

"We will look after them, so I encourage you to get some sleep while you still can.  You will need it," he smiled.

"I will.  Thanks again," the young man yawned and headed to the spare room.

Orlin picked up the pile of blood-soaked bedding.  "I will wash these, so Rob doesn't see them."  And he left the other Healers to begin their vigil.

After several quiet minutes, Daeron heard the raven-haired Healer sigh. 

"I... misjudged you.  I am sorry."

"I hope this brings an end to the enmity between us, Penlod.  Whatever your feelings, you did well tonight.  I have no grudge with you, and would like us to work well together."

“I would like that, too, if you would permit me.   I feel I owe you an explanation as to why I harbored such a… hesitation regarding the race of Men.”

“Only if you wish to.  ”

“I have never spoken of it to anyone, except the Lady, and that was only because little can be kept from her.”

“I understand that,” Daeron chuckled.  “Still if you are not comfortable…”

 “Please,” Pendlod was in earnest. “I think I need to.”

“I am honored to listen, then.”

“I am sure you can see from the color of my hair, that I was not born in Lothlórien.  My family come from Mithlond, under Lord Círdan.”

 _“The_  Lord Círdan?  King Thranduil has told me many stories about him!”

“If your King extolls his wisdom and virtues, he would be speaking the truth.  None are wiser in Middle Earth than he, and it is a privilege to live under his rule.”

“You were happy in Mithlond?”

“Very much so.  My parents were dark, like me, and so was my younger sister.  Her name was Peniel.”  He smiled sadly.  “She followed me everywhere and wanted to do everything I did.  My friends thought she was a pest, but not I.  I adored her, and could refuse her nothing, though my parents chided me for spoiling her.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was.  When I reached my maturity, and began my training as Healer, I wanted to travel to Imladris to continue my instruction under Lord Elrond.   Peniel begged me to stay, but I promised her I would write, and asked my parents to visit as often as possible.”

“I am sure Lord Elrond was happy to meet her.” Daeron said, quietly.

“He… never had the chance.  I was working with Lord Elrond for about five years, when he came to my rooms with some news.  My family had wanted to surprise me, he said.  They were traveling along the East-West road just past Bree when they were waylaid by bandits.”  Penlod paused and took a breath.

Daeron was shocked, but held his tongue, and waited.

“According to the survivors of the attack, they killed my father, but not before they forced him to watch, as they raped my mother and sister.  Help finally came, and they tried to save my sister, but she was too… badly injured, you see.  Worse, her _fëa_ was destroyed from the fright and the grief.”

Penlod’s voice broke, and he had to pause.  “They couldn’t save her, and the only thing they could do for my mother was to get her back to Mithlond as soon as possible, so Lord Círdan could put her on a ship.”  He turned to Daeron with sad eyes.  “Thanks to those horrible Men, I lost my entire family, without a chance to say goodbye.”

“Lord Elrond asked me if I wished to sail, and I seriously considered it, but I could not.  He understood my pain, as his own wife had suffered a similar fate and he sent her to Valinor, as well."

"Why did you both choose to stay?"

“Lord Elrond knew the Valar had a purpose for him here.  Maybe I felt the same way, as if my fate awaited me still, and I must remain to see it through.  I asked to be sent to the Golden Wood specifically because they had little to no dealing with Men.  For many centuries I had a pleasant life and found satisfaction in my work, then...  things changed, and I am suddenly filled with memories again.  Grief is a terrible thing, and I now know why many of our kind cannot bear it.”

“I am sorry for your loss, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  I cannot begin to understand your pain, but I understand that kind of grief.” Daeron said, quietly.  “I lost my bond-mate.”

Penlod was stunned.  "I did not know you had been married."

“We had no chance, and I only knew her for a brief time before she and her mother were murdered…”

At Penlod’s urging, Daeron shared the story of Miriam and his beloved Sellwen. 

"I know many Elves feel the _Ehtë Raumo,_ as children, but for one so young..."  he was surprised, and fascinated.  "And a human...  I did not know such things were even possible!"

"I think it was because of my Gift.  Lord Elrond knows of no other Elf with such an ability, but to me, it is as natural as breathing.  Sellwen, of course did not consciously recognize me, but her  _fëa_ knew me right away, and I her."

"A child of Man could see this?" Penlod was astounded.  “I mean no disrespect, Daeron, truly, but I cannot imagine such a thing."

"I cannot explain it, either.  But it was very real and powerful, and when she died, I...  was broken for a long time.  I knew I had a purpose here in Middle Earth, and only Eru and Mandos knows where she is, I had to let her go, and try to move on."  He looked at Penlod with compassion.  "I hope you have the same success with that.  Not everyone can."

"I know I must let go of my anger toward Man, and learn to embrace all these changes brought about by Eärendil’s Blessing.  In my mind, I understand these people are nothing like those animals who destroyed my family, but since I learned we would be working with these people, I cannot stop thinking about my parents and my little Peniel…”

Penlod sighed.  “The Lady tells me I will not find peace until I look past my hate.”  He looked at Daeron.  “How did you do it?”

“My friends and family refused to let me bottle it up inside.” Daeron smiled.  “My cousin badgered me to get up and out every day, and I have an Aunt who seems to know the workings of my heart better than I do.”

“I have been running away from my past, and I think it is time to face it.”

“I hope you can.  I am always ready to listen, if you would like that.”

Penlod looked at him and smiled a little.  “I am sorry for my treatment of you and the others.  I hope you can forgive me.”

“It is forgotten.  Let us see to our patients, shall we?” 

For the rest of the night, as they checked on the new mother, and worked to heal her wounds, Daeron confided to his new friend about his lovely Rhian, and the little boy he adored.  He shared his hopes, his prayers and his heartache over it.

But he never mentioned the Lady’s message to him, nor his anticipation (and dread, if he were honest) as he worked and waited for Galadriel to give him the answers once and for all that would decide his fate.

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS

 _Naergon…_ \- Oh, no…  (Lit.  “Lament…”)

 _Suil, Tithen Pen –_ Hello, Little One

 _Mê g'ovannen, gwennig! -_ Well met, little maid!

 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After spending a week working at the Palace, Bard is happy to see his Elf again, and they enjoy a small, private reunion. Queen Dilna and some other Dwarves show up at the Castle with some highly disturbing news, and asks for help. Bard begins to notice something about Rhian and Evan...
> 
> Letters arrive from Dale with the latest news!

 

 

“My hopes for a relationship with her were wholly unreal, whereas my ongoing misery, and frustration, were an all-too-horrible reality. Was groundless, hopeless romantic obsession any way to waste the rest of my life?”

**\--Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch**

**City of Dale, 28 th of October, 2942 T.A.**

 The bells from the West Gate rang, and Bard looked up from his desk with a grin.  Thranduil was returning from his Palace, after presiding over the Harvest Festival, and and his monthly meetings with his Council.  He was only gone eight days this time, but still…

“He’s here, lad.” Percy smirked at him, from his desk.

“See you later, Pers.  I’m taking a few hours off, and I don’t want to be disturbed unless there’s a fire, flood, or Orcs pounding at the door.”

“Sure thing,” the Steward waved his hand absently, not looking up from column of figures in front of him.  “Go away and don’t bug me, lad, or I’ll make _you_ add this up.”

Bard winced in sympathy and quietly shut the door behind him.

He made his way through the Hall to the dais, and stood in the shade of the archways to wait for his Elf.  When Thranduil rode into the Courtyard, Bard’s heart leaped as he waved.

Thranduil’s blue eyes met his (he still couldn’t believe how well he could see them) and he hurried _Naurmôr_ over to the King of Dale. 

“Welcome home, My King.” Bard met him halfway down the steps.  “You picked a nice day for traveling.”

“It was a pleasant ride, and the trees are always beautiful this time of year. In fact,” the Elf took Bard’s hand as they walked inside.  “Let us go riding tomorrow, to enjoy the colors.”

“Let’s all go.” Bard suggested.  “I miss seeing the forest this time of year, and the children would love it.”

“That is settled, then.   How are the children?”

“Anxious to see you.” Bard smirked, as they entered the corridor and walked to their room.  “Problem is, they won’t be done with school for another two hours…”

“Hmmm…”  Thranduil put an arm around him and whispered in his ear, “That is a tragedy.  How will we survive the wait?”

“Nothing comes to mind…” Bard shut the doors behind him, and locked them.  “Maybe draughts?  Stratagem?  How about a game of cards?  Hilda wants me to check my socks for holes before winter; you could help me with that, and we could do yours, while we’re at it…”

“Be quiet, you foolish Bowman.”  Thranduil grabbed Bard’s face and plundering his mouth.  With a deep sigh, Bard leaned into the kiss and pulled their hips together.

Their kisses grew hard and urgent, and Bard moaned, as his arousal grew.

“I love you, Bard,” Thranduil sucked on his earlobe.

“I love you, too,” he breathed, straining against the Elf.  “I missed you at night.  I hate sleeping alone, now.”

“I hate how empty my chambers are at the Palace.  I need to make love to you.  Please, Bard.” The Elvenking begged.  “It was all I could think about on the ride here.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” The Bowman whispered.  “We’ve got a few hours, so take me, love. Any way you want.”

With a groan, Thranduil pushed him down on the bed and straddled him, as he covered his face with kisses.

“It might work better if our clothes are off.”

“Mmmm….  So it would.”

  “Just don’t rip anything, or we’ll get yelled at.  Hilda’s noticed how often my smalls need mended.”

The Elf laughed, ripped them anyway, and soon had them naked.  Then he urged Bard up towards the headboard, where their bodies slid together, as the Elf whispered promises of filthy things in his ear.

“Mmmm…”  Bard licked and nibbled on the tip of the Elvenking’s ear, which had the desired effect, as Thranduil yelped with delight, as his hips strain against him.  “So, you think you can fuck me till I scream?  Prove it, Elf.”

Thranduil reached for the oil and slicked his fingers. “Watch me, Bowman.”

Bard hissed as he felt a finger enter him.  He closed his eyes, blew out a breath, and enjoyed the way it hurt so good.  When he felt lips begin to suckle on his nipples, he moaned.

“That is not the scream I want.”  The Elf smirked through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Then you’ll have to do better, won’t you?”  Bard’s hips began to move when two fingers began to scissor him open, and whimpered when he felt his Elf take him in his mouth to suck on him. 

 _“Bloody fuck!”_ His hips lifted up and he pushed against those fingers, as Thranduil hummed low, sending thrills through him.  

After a few minutes, Thranduil pulled off him, and sat against the headboard, with his legs spread.  “Take me in your mouth, _Meleth_ ,” he breathed. 

Bard rolled over on his side and took the Elf’s hard, throbbing length into his mouth and ran his tongue underneath the head, which made the Elf squirm.  He felt long, smooth fingers on his scalp, as his head bobbed up and down, using his hand to tease where his mouth couldn’t reach.

 _“Gellon n'i iuithog i carpa gîn…”_ the Elvenking babbled, as he grabbed handfuls of Bard’s hair and pulled.  “ _Lavo i 'wî nîn!”_  

He sucked harder and sped up his movements, until Thranduil forced him to stop, and kissed him hard. 

“Let me inside you.  I have got to be inside you.”

Bard straddled his legs over Thranduil’s hips and put his hands on the headboard and slowly impaled himself with a low groan.  When he was fully seated, Thranduil angled his legs and hips to bring him even closer.

“I dreamed of fucking you like this the first night at the Palace,” the Elf moaned.

“I like your dreams, love,” Bard grinned and squeezed him again, as he thrust down.

 _“A, ma…”_ A whine escaped the Elvenking’s lips, as their eyes locked. 

Though they were not thrusting against each other with large movements, the intimacy of their lover’s embrace and the way they were working their muscles, both inside and out, was enough to send thrills down his spine.

Bard wrapped his arms around Thranduil’s shoulders and pressed their foreheads together, as they moved together.

He took in air with convulsive gasps, and keened, “Stars, this is so good, love.  It’s always so good with you.”  He reached between them and began to stroke himself, and his moans became urgent

 _“Born ad limp mi gin,_ _Meleth nîn_. _”_ Thranduil’s voice was gravely and he held Bard’s hips and thrust upwards with increasing force and speed. 

“Look at me, Bard!  Open your eyes!”

When their eyes met, the Elvenking heard the sounds he had been hoping for, as Bard’s noises increased in volume, as they moved together, and by the time he came all over Thranduil’s chest, he was indeed, screaming wordless cries of ecstasy.  As he convulsed around the Elf’s cock, Bard could feel his Elf’s pleasure rise, and his cries began again.

“Ulmo’s balls…” Bard collapsed against him at last, and buried his face into the crook of Thranduil’s neck, and savored the last throbs of orgasm.  “I know I say this a lot, but I can’t believe how good it is with you, love.  I just can’t.”

“I know, _Meleth_.” Thranduil whispered back.  “I love this…  I love how we hold each other after, and make this our own world.  Everything falls away, and nothing exists but us.”

A sigh escaped Bard.  “I meant what I said a while back.” His throat tightened.  “How many people never really know what it is to love even once?  And yet, the Valar has granted me two great loves.” He lifted his head and kissed his husband softly.  “I’m glad I get to spend eternity with you.  We belong to each other.”

“We do,” Thranduil kissed his ear.

After they washed, they spent the next hour snuggling and talking with each other, until it was time to get up and get Tilda from school. 

 _“Ada!  You’re back!”_ she cried with delight when they entered the classroom.  “Hi, Da!”

“I am, _Tithen Pen._   What do you have there?” 

Tilda showed them all the papers she had done that day, and after the Elvenking made sure she was properly bundled up to stave off the cooler October air, he picked her up, and they walked home, followed by their Guards.

Waiting on the dais of the Great Hall were four Dwarves: Dilna, Queen Under the Mountain, Dís, Ruler of the Blue Mountains, along with their escort, Bifur and Bofur.

After the rulers paid formal courtesy to each other, Tilda waved at them from her _Ada’s_ arms.

“Hi Queen Dilna!” Tilda waved. “How is Princess Alda?”

 “Hello, Tilda!  I’m glad you asked, dear. My granddaughter heard I was coming and gave me this to give to you.”   She pulled a letter out of her pocket and handed it to the girl.

“What do you say?” Bard reminded her.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Then she smiled and said hello to the rest of them.

“It’s good to see you again, Lady Tilda, you’ve grown!” Bofur took off his hat and bowed.

“I’m eight now!”

“Is that right?” Bofur and his cousin grinned at the little girl.

 “To what do we owe this honor?” Bard asked. 

“I hope you think it’s an honor after I tell you the reason for my visit.” Dilna grimaced.  “I need to speak with you two and Lady Hilda right away, if I could.”

“Of course.  She’s in her office.  Why don’t we go the conference room?”

“I will get Tilda settled for her nap, and fetch Hilda, Bard.” Thranduil said.

“Thanks.” Bard kissed the top of Tilda’s hair.  “Time for your nap, Little Bean.  You can visit with the Dwarves after we have our meeting, all right?”

“But –“

“No buts, love.  Now go with _Ada_ , and get yourself settled.  Sigrid will be home in a minute and she can read to you.”

“Okay,” she sulked, but waved her hand.  “Bye!” 

“How is Tilda doing?” Dilna asked Bard.

“We keep a close eye on her.  She’s better with memory, but she gets a bit of extra help at school and at home.  If she gets tired or overexcited, it gets worse, then she gets frustrated, which perpetuates the problem.  She limps if she gets tired, but we haven’t seen it in a while.”

Dís sympathized.  “Now that she feels stronger, I’ll bet she’s really fighting with you.”

“That’s exactly it, Your Majesty.  It’s easy for her to forget just how sick she was, but Thranduil and I…” he shrugged.  “We’re just thankful she’s still with us.”

 Bard ushered the Dwarves inside and once they all settled around the table, the Queen wasted no time getting down to business.

“First of all, thanks for letting us know about the dead Ravens at Dimril Dale, Thranduil.  We’ll be taking your cousin’s advice about training more birds right away.”

“I sent those Ravens to the Blue Mountains,” Dís said.  “The messages were in code, but your cousin saved us a lot of trouble.”

“I will pass along your thanks.”

“Second and more important, we need to talk about problems with Bandits.”

“You are correct, Your Majesty,” Thranduil nodded.   “I have increased the Guard at my borders and the nearby human villages, as a precaution.”

“Oh, no titles, please,” the Dwarrow waved a hand.  “For our part, we’ve been watching Hope Field, between Erebor and Dale, Bard.  I noticed you bought some guard dogs to guard the sheep.  The big white ones?”

“I have.  Thranduil told me about this breed, and we purchased some from a village near his Realm.  These aren’t like the black-and-white dogs, who herd the sheep.  They guard all kinds of livestock and the farms, and are as frightening as Thangon if they need to be.”

Dís looked down at the floor where Thangon was laying with his head between his paws.  “Frightening?” She smiled at lifted her eyebrows.”

“Don’t be fooled,” Bard smirked, as he shook his head.  “Ask Dáin about those Dwarves who caused problems last winter.  But about the Bandits, you’re right.  Word is spreading of Dale’s prosperity, and the roads are going to become more dangerous.  I also try to vet the people who want to move here – they need to have letters of introduction and we check them out.”

“Glad to hear it.  Now, we’ve got a real problem on our hands, and I need your help.  These two,” she gestured toward Bifur and Bofur, “led an escort for a party from the Iron Hills, and had ran into trouble.”

“What do you mean?” The King of Dale asked.

“The party had stopped at an Inn along the way, only to find a certain… er… ‘business’ going on, if you get my drift…”

“You mean, brothels?”  Bard made a face but looked resigned.  “I’m afraid that’s not unusual, really.  It’s against the law here, but I have no jurisdiction anywhere else.  That would be the the business of the village, wouldn’t it?”

“I agree, and we would normally just leave Men to themselves, but there’s been a few... complications.”

The Queen turned to Bofur, “Go ahead.  Tell them what happened.”

The Dwarf removed his hat and sighed.  “While in the tavern, I spoke with a few of the townsfolk, and it seems this Inn had been taken over by a group of ruffians, who rode into town six months ago.  The previous owner of the tavern was ‘persuaded’ to sell his business, under threat to himself and his family.  These arseholes – pardon my Black Speech - have taken over the town, and the sheriffs have either been killed or fled with their families, and those who can’t afford to leave have been terrorized.”

“I see,” Thranduil considered for a moment. “Should we arrange a joint task force to remove them?  I would be happy to send as many troops as you need.”

“Thank you, but after we brought the party to Erebor, Lord Dáin sent a battalion back to the village and we got rid of them.  The battle was short, and those that put up any kind of a fight, were killed on the spot, and the ones who surrendered, were given a criminal’s brand and their ears cut, before we chased them off.” 

“The Thieves’ Mark.” Bard nodded in approval.  “Problem solved, then.” 

“No.” Dilna shook her head sadly. “We really should have killed them all.”

“Maybe not.  If they go back to their friends, you sent a message, that Free Folk won’t tolerate this.”

“I wish you were right Bard, but it was only _after_ we sent them packing that we discovered the worst of it.”

“Which was?”  Hilda leaned forward.

“We went into the houses and found these…workers.” Bofur looked at them with a stricken face, “They were children, My Lords.  Girls and boys, and some of them,” he paused, “as young as Lady Tilda.”

 _“WHAT?”_ Bard’s eyes were like saucers.  Everyone else around the table exploded in fury.

 _“Amarth faeg!”_ Thranduil, gasped.  “That is despicable!”

“Those fucking bastards!  I’d castrate every one of them myself.”  Percy was livid, but apologized after Hilda kicked him under the table.  “Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be.”  Dilna excused him.  “You should have heard Dáin, when he found out about it.  Now, Bifur and Bofur weren’t about to leave them there, you understand, so the children, twenty-seven in all, were loaded up in the wagons and brought to Erebor.  We’re happy to help them, of course, but these bairns are frightened to death, and I think they’d feel better with their own kind, don’t you think?”

Bard nodded grimly. “Hilda?  This would fall under your jurisdiction.”

“Do the children speak Westron?” the Seneschal asked the Dwarves.

“A few of the older ones do.  They translate for the others.”

“Good.  I’ll find a place to put them, don’t you worry.  They’ll need some caregivers round the clock, and clothes and bedding.  I’ll look into it right away.”

Dilna sighed in relief.  “These bairns would respond better to a human, or even an Elf.  Óin and his staff have been patient, but the wee ones are frightened out of their minds!  Can’t blame them really.  In any case, Óin’s specialty is injuries and war wounds.  I think if we could have them examined by a female, and a Human at that, you could find out if any have been...” she gave them all a meaningful look, “... _hurt_.”

Bard’s stomach churned at that thought, and his toes curled inside his boots.

“We can have Elénaril and Hannah take care of that.” Hilda turned to Bofur.  “Where did these kids come from?  What about their parents?”

“That’s a good question,” Bard said. 

“Right now, these wee ones are too stressed to talk a lot, except their names, and even then, I doubt these were the names they were born with.”

“Why do you say this?”  Thranduil wondered.

“There’s little chance their parents gave them all suggestive, Gondorian names.  They have swarthy complexions, and the older ones speak with an accent.   I believe they’re either from Harad or Khand.”

“But Harad is farther South than Dol Amroth!” Thranduil exclaimed.   “This cannot be!  How did these children get here?”

“Wait a minute; just…  let me think a minute…”  Bard steepled his hands against his mouth.  “Percy, isn’t the blacksmith’s wife from that area?”

“She might be.”  Percy was searching his memory.

“Oh, you mean Adila?”  Hilda asked.  “I think so. Should we send for her?”

“Do that.  A carriage from the Livery would get her here quick.  And send Turamarth to track down Hannah, too.   Tell them it’s urgent.”

“Sure thing.” And Percy was off.

Bard turned back to Dilna.  “Are the children settled in with you?  At least for a few days?”

“As much as they can be.  What do you want to do?”

“It will take time to get a building ready and for Hil to organize the furniture and such, but I want those children seen to. Tomorrow.  Today would be better.”

 

A few minutes later, Turamarth and Hannah showed up, followed by Rhian and Darryn.  The young girl looked worried.

“What’s wrong, My Lord?” Hannah asked. “Tur would only say that there was some urgent problem and you needed me right away!”

Evan and Alun heard the commotion and came out of their office to see what was going on.

“Did something happen to Da?”  Rhian said.

“He’s fine, love,” Hilda came over to reassure her.  “He’s just out at the moment.”

“You’ll all find out anyway.” Bard waved his arm.  “Come on in and take a seat.”

Elénaril came ten minutes later, eventually Adila was escorted into the room by Percy.  She was petite in stature, with smooth brown skin and the biggest, darkest eyes Bard had ever seen.  She wore gold jewelry in her ears, and a small gem in her nose and her thick, blue-black hair added to her exotic looks.

After Queen Dilna explained the situation again, Adila shook her head sadly and spoke in heavily-accented voice.  “I know some from my country are slave traders, though most of my people denounce this terrible practice.” 

“She’s right,” Evan interjected.  “I’ve heard of this, back in East Bight.  Most of those… _monsters_ aren’t from the South at all.; they’re opportunists, looking to make easy cash.   I pray I’m wrong,” he hesitated, “but I’ve heard they snatch children from their homeland, and bring them up North, so the little ones don’t try to run away.  They don’t know how to get home again.”

“Oh, no…” Rhian’s lip trembled, and she covered her mouth.  Hannah put a hand on her arm with concern. 

“I have heard this as well,” Adila said.  Of course, I will go, My Lord.  When do you wish me to be ready?”

“Can you and Hannah leave now?  I don’t want to wait.  Her Majesty says the children have been afforded every comfort, but they have been through a terrible time and I don’t want them to wait a minute longer than they have to.”

“Of course, My Lord.”  Hannah said, and smiled at Adila.

“I must send a message to my husband, but yes, I can do this.”

“I’m coming, too”

Everyone at the table turned to Rhian in surprise.  Darryn was asleep on her shoulder, and she was rubbing his back in small circles.  Bard also noticed Evan leaning toward her slightly; a bit protectively.

“Are you sure, _Mellon_ _nîn_?” Turamarth asked gently.

“It won’t be pretty, lovey,” Hannah asked her.  “Do you think you’re ready for something like that?”

“When is something like that _ever ‘pretty?’”_ Rhian asked.  “I know a little about what they are suffering, and I…  I think I have to do this.  I want to help.” She turned to the Bowman.  “Please, may I go, My Lord?”

Bard’s eyes narrowed, as he held her gaze.  The girl’s bright green eyes were wet with tears, but there was a hardness and determination in her look that impressed him.  Maybe it would help her, too, if she could make a difference in some small way.  The King of Dale knew he didn’t have to ask the others to look out for her; they’d all make sure she was all right.

“All right, then.” Bard decided.   “Darryn can stay here with us, until your Da gets done with work.  While Hannah and Elénaril helps Master Óin examine these kids, I want you with Adila.”

He looked at the Haradhrim woman.  “Talk to the children, and get their birth names and the names of their parents.  Rhian, I want you to make a record for each child. Write everything you can think of - anything useful that describes where they came from.  Turamarth, you go with them.  Tauriel should be arriving any minute with Sigrid and Bain, so take her with you.” He looked at all of them. “Go, and help them with whatever those kids need."

“Yes, My Lord.”  The women and the Guard nodded their heads.

“Hilda, find Ben and get things arranged for housing. We’ll need volunteers to help look after them, and a whole pile of warmer clothes.”

“I’ll get right on it.” She said.

"I will send a message to the Palace for caretakers, Bard.” Thranduil offered. “Everyone here in Dale is busy with their families and their jobs, and you will need a staff that can actually live with them.  Turamarth, do you think your mother could come?”

”I do not see why not.  This is her area of expertise.” the Guard answered. 

“That’s a great idea,” Bard said, before he turned back to Rhian.  “I think your Da has a pportable lap desk in his office. Take with you, if it would help."

"I'll go get it."  To everyone's surprise, Rhian handed Darryn over to Evan.  “Could you please hold him, while I get some paper and pens together?”

“You bet,” he grinned, “Hey, there’s my little pal!”

The King of Dale noted Turamarth’s suspicious look.

He also noted Thranduil’s raised eyebrows.

_Uh oh…_

 

***************

 

**LETTERS FROM DALE**

**To Daeron from Thranduil:**

 

 

> _Suilad, Lieutenant Daeron:_
> 
> _I have read your reports, which have been seconded by Lord Celeborn, and I want to congratulate you all.  I have confidence that your excellent performance will continue throughout the year._
> 
> _Thanks be to the Valar for the safe arrival, of your unit, Mellon nîn._
> 
> _I was pleased to read your glowing report regarding the performance of my Guardians but I am not surprised.  Commander Feren’s confidence in you all is well-placed._
> 
> _I am also pleased to tell you that Lady Tilda is doing well.  As per your instructions, she is resting immediately after school, and we have arranged for Esta to accompany her in the classroom, with much success.  Her teacher, Miss Eryn has been helpful in encouraging the children to see her as a ‘mascot’ of sorts.  Elénaril examines her on a weekly basis, but so far, finds nothing out of the ordinary.  We remain cautious, despite Tilda’s increasing frustration.  We try to remind ourselves that her impatience is also a side-effect of her illness, she does not like knowing she cannot do what the other children do so easily, which is heartbreaking, but there is little we can do about it, except to calm her and love her unconditionally._
> 
> _Bain, of course, is as active as ever.  Sigrid had a bit of a cold last week, but only missed one day of school which was at my insistence, and Bard and I kept Tilda with us, to keep her from catching it._
> 
> _The children miss you terribly, and I am to tell you not to forget to read Tilda’s letter, which she assures me is “secret, so I must not look.”_
> 
> _By now, you have gotten used to living in the treetops, and have seen the beauty of Caras Galadhon at night – what do you think of it?  I hope they have continued the tradition of singing at twilight, and that you enjoy it as much as I did._
> 
> _Mellon nîn, I hope you are finding the peace you seek, though I caution you that your sorrows will find their way to you, even in such a lovely place such as Lothlórien.  Even so, you will find such dark thoughts easier to bear, thanks to the benevolence of the Lady._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Woodland Realm_

***

 

 **To Celeborn from Thranduil:**  

 

 

> _Suilad, my cousin and friend:_
> 
> _It is my continued hope that all is well with you and your wife, and that she continues to heal and gain strength after her brave deeds._
> 
> _Please express my personal thanks to those who have opened up their homes for my Elves.  I wish I could reciprocate this generosity here in Dale, but the fact is, very few Elves in our military have permanent homes in this City.  Most are on rotation from the Woodland Realm, so their quarters here are temporary._
> 
> _In fact your Wardens are preparing to leave Dale for their month-long rotation in my forest next week.  After, they will return here, and begin their visits to Erebor._
> 
> _I have gone over Commander Feren’s reports concerning your Galadhrims’ individual performance, and I am sure they will coincide with Rúmil’s.  They are skilled, courteous and eager to understand the differing traditions we have here._
> 
> _The people of Dale enjoy getting to know them, and you will be amused to know our friend Hilda is has taken them, especially Rúmil, under her wing and has made it her personal mission to see that he and Turamarth are well-fed._
> 
> _Should your duties permit, I would be greatly honored to have an opportunity to introduce you to my husband and my new children soon.  I am afraid any plans to travel to Lothlórien, must be postponed for several years, as the King of Dale must remain here to help establish this region, and cannot be away for more than a few days._
> 
> _I hope you can plan a trip soon.  In fact, since our youngest has learned I have a cousin, she has been continually asking questions about you._
> 
> _My best to you and your esteemed wife, dear cousin._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Thranduil_
> 
> _P.S.  Since writing this, a situation has arisen, and I hope you can help.  Bard will give the details in enclosed letter._

_***_

**To Haldir and Orophin from Rúmil:**

 

 

> _Suilad, Gwedyr Nîn:_
> 
> _Greetings from the new city of Dale!_
> 
> _Upon our arrival in the Woodland Realm, we stayed for seven days in King Thranduil’s underground Palace, to spend time with our Guardian counterparts.  I have made sure to tell Daeron everything he needs to know to survive the year living with the two of you!_
> 
> _Then a brief ceremony, we bid farewell to the Guardians, and began the five-hour journey to Dale.  During the trip, I enjoyed conversing with Commander Feren and Lord Thranduil, who spoke of our father, saying he greatly admired and respected him.  He even went so far as to give Adar the credit for saving those Galadhrim who returned home after that the War of the Last Alliance._ _The Elvenking has promised me to spend an evening or two sharing stories of Adar, and I cannot tell you how much I look forward to that._
> 
> _Lord Thranduil is powerful, with as commanding a presence as the Lord and Lady.  In an official capacity, he is strict and efficient.  All the rumors you have heard are true, regarding his skill with weapons, my brothers._
> 
> _Still, despite how intimidating he can be on the Throne or the Sparring ring, the Elvenking is surprisingly engaging and kind.  If you could see him with his family, and how he dotes on his children!  He is affectionate with all of them, especially the youngest, a little girl, who still suffers the effects of an illness, I am told._
> 
> _For myself, I find it hard to resist the children here.  When I work at the Castle, little Princess Tilda is sweet, and it is not hard to see why the Elvenking indulges her so much.  My new friend Ruvyn, has been assigned as her head Guard and he’s clearly smitten, as well._
> 
> _Life in Dale is the complete opposite of life in Caras Galadhon in every way imaginable!  Multi-story dwellings, warm bright colors, and full of lively, noisy activity!  It is such a contrast from the quiet existence we enjoy back home, but I find I like it very much._
> 
> _I am happy to say I encountered little to no discrimination toward Elves, or Dwarves here.  This truly is the Capitol City for the Northern Kingdoms, and Lord Bard is working hard to continue this culture._
> 
> _My room-mate Turamarth, cousin to Daeron is much like him in looks, but while Daeron reminds me of you, Haldir, Tur makes me think of Orophin, with his jovial demeanor and easy laugh.  He did tell me he pities the two of you, as Daeron is such a slob.  He wants me to tell you not to go around picking up after him, and to make sure he does the dishes right away, because if he says he’ll do it “later” he will forget and not do them at all!_
> 
> _We are getting ready to go back to the Woodland Realm for our tour of duty in the forest there.  I will write soon and tell you about it._
> 
> _I will close for now, but look forward to hearing from you both soon._
> 
> _Much affection,_
> 
> _Rúmil_

_***_

**To Daeron from Turamarth:**

 

 

> _Suilad, Gwador!_
> 
> _First of all, I want to tell you that I find Rúmil much easier than you to live with.  He is neat and organized and does his share of the chores without having to be reminded at least three times. I do not have to go into his room and pick up his dirty clothes to wash, nor do I have to re-fold my own tunics or leggings when he does the laundry._
> 
> _The problem is, I am not spending most of my day griping at anyone!  What do I do with all this extra time on my hands?  I wish I could spend it causing mischief, but alas,  I must set a good example for our guests…_
> 
> _Seriously, I do miss you,Daeron.  I was sorry to hear about your colleague who is causing problems – Penlod was his name?  Have you won him over with your charm and devastating good looks?  On second though, perhaps not - I’m the handsome one._
> 
> _Now, onto important business:  Bowen is attending school full time, and Mistress Anna tells me he is still quiet at home, and seems distant.  Beriel has been a real source of comfort, not only to the boy, but to the whole family, who grieve Owen and Ellyn deeply.  I pick him up after school at least twice a week, and we go riding if the weather permits. Oftentimes Rúmil will ride along with young Maddox who was taken a liking to the Warden.  Prince Bain and Rhys often accompany us, which keeps things lively._
> 
> _Rhian brings Darryn to the Castle on a regular basis to have lunch with Ben, and he has a new trick:  he likes to see what is going on around him, so his mother now has to hold him facing outwards, or he becomes cranky.  Darryn is now able to pull himself up to stand, and very pleased with himself about it, too.  He does not walk, but he crawls everywhere, and at an alarming rate of speed._
> 
> _You will be proud of Rhian, Gwador.  Two days ago, we received word from the Dwarves that a group of refugees, children who had been turned into slaves, had been brought to the Lonely Mountain, and she left the baby with Princess Sigrid and joined Lady Hilda, Mistress Hannah, and Queen Dilna back to Erebor, see if she could help._
> 
> _Tauriel and I accompanied the party to Erebor.  It was difficult for her, and she was somber and quiet afterwards, but perhaps this experience will make her stronger in the end.  I took her aside yesterday and told her I was available if she needed to talk, for which she was grateful._
> 
> _I must go - duty calls.  May the Valar keep watch over you, Gwador.  I know what it is you pray for, but please: do not forget all those who love you here._
> 
> _Be well, cousin,_
> 
> _Turamarth_

_***_

**To Daeron from Tilda:**  

 

 

> _Deer Darron:_
> 
> _I am good.  I miss you.  I like school a lot.  Esta goes with me the other kids like her alot.  I take my naps eveery day like you said.  I feel really good.  Ada walks to school with mee, but he goes away alot.  Then Da takes mee._
> 
> _Tauriel is good.  So is Bain and Sigrid.  I like my friend Gwen.  She likes my dolls._
> 
> _I am feeling good. Can I run now?_
> 
> _Ada says you have tree housses.  Is that tru?_
> 
> _Love Tilda_

_***_

**To Daeron from Tauriel:**

 

 

> _Suilad, Mellon nîn Daeron:_
> 
> _The corridors of the Castle here seem vastly different since you have left, but Turamarth is doing his best to fill your shoes.  Warden Rúmil also works some shifts as Guard to King Thranduil, and he and the Galadhrim seem to like our home here in Dale.  I will be accompanying them to Erebor after they finish their tour in the Woodland Realm, and I am told the Dwarves plan a welcoming ceremony similar to the one we experienced when the Kings and their family stayed there._
> 
> _I spend most of my days accompanying Sigrid and Bain to school, and teaching the weapons classes for the older boys._
> 
> _The Galadhrim seem to enjoy their time here.  Turamarth and Rúmil can  be found in most evenings in Long Lake Pub, playing darts.  Ruvyn and Ivran join them whenever they can._
> 
> _Speaking of Ivran, you will be amused to hear he has become enamored with the Galadhrim Archer, Cwën, and from the looks she gives him, she might feel the same.  It is too soon to tell, of course, but I will tell you how that plays out._
> 
> _I like Cwën and Amaren, very much, and once they got past the idea that I am the King’s daughter, we dropped the courtesies and have a great deal of fun._
> 
> _Ada has drawn some pictures of what he remembers of Lothlórien and I could hardly believe what I was seeing!  Such huge trees!  Please send me a very descriptive letter of what life is like living so far off the ground and what it is like to be so close to the stars!_
> 
> _I must go, Mellon, as it is time for me to fetch Bain and Sigrid from school._
> 
> _Hope to hear from you soon, and be well._
> 
> _Tauriel_

_***_

**To Celeborn and Galadriel from Bard:**

 

 

> _Greetings, to the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood:_
> 
> _I would like to thank for the lovely cloak pins you sent as a wedding gift.  I will wear mine with great pride as part of my formal uniform._
> 
> _Our youngest daughter, Tilda, has asked me to enclose an envelope for you, and she says it is a secret.  I agreed not to look as she promised it’s very polite, and I ask your forgiveness in advance, although her Ada tells me I do not need to._
> 
> _I’m afraid I must get down to the true and heartbreaking reason for my letter:_
> 
> _King Dáin, King Thranduil and I have recently become aware of the fact that some traders in our area have captured children from as far south as Harad, and brought them North to force them into slavery, both of a menial nature and for prostitution._
> 
> _My initial investigation leads me to suspect there is more to this than the twenty-seven children we have rescued.  It looks to be an entire large network of “trade,” of this kind.  These groups tend to takeover small towns, by killing or driving out the current leadership, and intimidate the rest into cooperating._
> 
> _I know it is great deal to ask for your involvement, but these are helpless children, some as young as our eight-year-old, and I am hoping you feel as outraged as I do and be willing help us put a stop to it._
> 
> _This could also mean that some of your nearby territories will be vulnerable to such criminals, if they haven’t tried already.  I do not know the rulers of these places, but I beg you to either contact them and apprise them of these developments, or send me their names so I can contact them myself._
> 
> _The whole point of cooperation between nations is to fight tyranny on every front, including those who do not come directly from our Enemies in Mordor.  Let us all work together to end, or at least curtail, this heinous practice from our lands._
> 
> _With my highest regards, I am, and I remain,_
> 
> _Your humble servant,_
> 
> _Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale_

_***_

 

**To Celeborn and Galadriel from Tilda:**

 

 

> Deer Lord Celebon and ~~Lady~~ ~~Gall~~   ~~Galand~~  Lady of light:
> 
> How are you.  I am good. 
> 
> My name is Tilda and King Bard is my Da.  King Thrandool is my _Ada_ and he says your reel nice so I want to write you a ~~litte~~   letter.  
> 
> How is Daron?  He is my friend.  He took care of me, becuase  I got reel sick, but dont worry I am better now.
> 
> I want to run like the other kids, but _Ada_ says no, becuase Daron told him I cant.  Pleese ask him to tell Da and _Ada_ that I am good, so I can bee like my freinds.  Pleese make him say I can!
> 
> I drew you a pikture.  It is of the Great Hall. I hope you like it. We live there, becuase the Cassle needs fixed but Da says everybody elsse gets a ~~houss~~  a place to live first. 
> 
> Your freind,
> 
> Tilda, Princess of Dale
> 
> Ps..  I like your Warddens.  They are nice.  There hare is pretty like _Ada_.

 

***

 

**To Daeron from Rhian:**

 

 

> _Hello, Daeron!_
> 
> _I can’t believe it’s almost November already!  Well, maybe that’s a good thing, because it means you’ll come back soon if the time seems to fly by.  I hate that you’re so far away, especially now._
> 
> _I went to Erebor two days ago, and I’ve been spending some time helping with a small band of children who have suffered from a terrible abuse.  Turamarth told me he was going to give you the details, so I won’t repeat them here._
> 
> _The Blacksmith’s wife, Adina, speaks Haradish, I helped her get the names and ages of these children and find out the names of parents, so King Bard can find a way to contact their people._
> 
> _I think about all the kindness you showed me back at the refugee camp, all the time you took to draw me out of my shell, so that I could be here today.  Where would I be if you hadn’t help me carry water that day?_
> 
> _I often think about what you said back in July, that I didn’t owe you anything, do you remember your words?  “There is no debt, except to your own possibilities.”  I_ _think I know what you were talking about.  I’ve been so busy concentrating on getting better, that I never thought about what my life could be, beyond Da and Darryn.  Argh!_ _I wish you were here, so I could get your advice about something, but I know you’re doing something important.  I’m proud of you, and I know Darryn will be too._
> 
> _Speaking of Darryn, our little boy misses you.  He looks around for you when I bring him to the Castle!  Right after you left, he would cry when he couldn’t find you!_ _I asked Lord Thranduil to draw a picture of you, so I could show it to him, and tell him a hundred times a day how much you love him, and that you’ll be back soon._
> 
> _Write soon, and tell me what it’s like in Lothlorien.  I know it’s silly and stupid, but if I can picture you there, you don’t seem so far away._
> 
> _Lots of love and kisses from Darryn,_
> 
> _Rhian_

 

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Gellon n'i iuithog i carpa gîn…_ – I love it when you use your mouth…

 _Lavo i 'wî nîn!_   - Lick my cock!

 _Suilad, Gwedyr Nîn_ – Greetings My Brothers:

 _Nover hí, -_ Farewell for now,

 

 NOTES:

\--The dogs that Bard purchased to guard the sheep and the crops are Middle Earth’s version of Great Pyrenees breed.  Huge, good with children, but hostile to strangers and predators.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta tell ya, I know there’s a Hilda from the movies, but in my head, she looks and acts like Brenda Blethyn, as Vera Stanhope, from the mystery series, “Vera.”
> 
> It just sort of evolved, but I love it!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhian and the Healers travel to Erebor to see if they can help the refugees. Later Bard meets with them to see what they find, and further plans are made.
> 
> Tilda needs to learn a lesson, though the Royal Family is a bit surprised at who does the teaching.
> 
> Daeron fills his days with activity, but at night his sorrows find him...
> 
> Letters from the Golden Wood arrive!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING*** Graphic descriptions of injuries stemming from sexual abuse, and unwanted pregnancy. 

 

 

 

“Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.”   
― [ **William Shakespeare**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/947.William_Shakespeare), [ **A Midsummer Night's Dream**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/894834)

 

**Erebor, 28 th of October, 2942 T.A.**

While riding in the wagon to Erebor after learning of the rescued children, Rhian listened carefully, as Elénaril gave the group instructions on what they might expect, and the kind of care and behavior these children needed.

“Be kind, yes, but above all, you must remain calm, do you understand?  Yes, their story is heartbreaking, but you will help them best if you are confident, thus helping the child to feel more secure.  Focus on the child, _and only_ what you can do for them now.  If you become overwhelmed, no one will judge you, but you _must_ leave the room before you project your sadness onto them.  We are there to comfort them, _not bleed for them._   Is that clear?”

As resolved as all the ladies had been in the wagon, no one was fully prepared to see these frightened little ones.  Rhian could feel the others gasp, but like them, she straightened her shoulders and resolved to give them what the needed, not what she felt.

Like Adila, these children had smooth, brown complexions, huge eyes of brown velvet, and thick hair the same shade as Adila’s: deep, deep black, with blue undertones when the light reflected in it. 

Some of them smiled when they walked in, and the contrast between their dark skin and the shining white of their teeth only added to their exotic looks.  But no smile could hide the haunted, frightened look in their eyes. 

Regardless, Rhian thought they were precious, and absolutely beautiful.

 _“Selami yibelu!”_ Adila stepped forward with a smile.

As soon as the children heard her speak Haradish to them, they swarmed around her, and began to speak at once.

_“Inatē yeti nati?”_

_“Welajochē yeti ālu?”_

_“Bēti litiwesidilini tichilalehi?”_

_“Wede bēti mehēdi ifeligalehu!”_

The Blacksmith’s wife froze, then plastered a smile on her face as she began to stroke their heads and caress their cheeks as she offered quick words of comfort to them, and ask them to settle down.

The others helped gather them together, and with Adila serving as an interpreter, Hannah began to speak to the group, telling them a place was being prepared for them in Dale.

One of the older children raised his hand.  “Are there Men there, Miss?” 

At once, the group sobered up and looked nervous.

“Yes, love,” Hannah smiled, “but no one is going to expect you to do the things those terrible people wanted.  I promise.”

“Can we go home?”

“We will do everything we can.  Adila here, will be sitting down with each one of you and my friend Rhian,” Hannah gestured toward her, “so you can tell us about your families, and the villages you came from, so I want you try to remember as much as you can, and tell us.  King Bard will then send a list of your names to the King of your land –“

“He is King Abdullon, Miss.”  The boy told her. 

Hannah smiled at the lad.  “That’s the kind of stuff we need to know.  Now, I know you’ve been taken far away from your homes, and it’s going to take some time for us to get a message to your King and tell him.  You’ve got to be patient, all right?” 

“How long?”

“I won’t lie to you, children.  Our messengers will travel as fast as they can, but it’s a long way –“

“We rode in a wagon for many, many days, Miss!”

“I’m sure you did.  That’s why you must try to tell us all about yourselves, so King Abdullon can find your parents.  As soon as we hear anything, we’ll make sure to come right away and tell you.”

Rhian watched the children as Hannah spoke, and saw that the youngest children seemed to naturally gravitate to the older ones, which they had probably been doing for some time.  She was glad of it.

Once Hannah was finished speaking, things were organized to begin their physical examinations.  Ori and Óin had set up some privacy screens and tables, then left the room, so Elénaril could get to work.  Adila interpreted where needed, and Hannah assisted and recorded their findings on each child’s injuries.

While the others worked, Rhian and Tauriel sat on the mats with rest of the children and sang songs and poured out as much affection and smiles as they could.  Queen Dilna and Dís came in after a while and joined them, and the mood became rather jovial.

They marveled at Rhian’s curly brown hair, and smiled into her green eyes, fingered Queen Dilna and Dís’ jewelry on their fingers and wrists, and played with the beads in their hair.  They found the Dwarrow’s beards fascinating, and liked the bright colors of their clothing.  They found the color of Tauriel’s hair attractive, and giggled over her “pretty” pointed ears. 

A little girl who looked to be about Princess Tilda’s age, crawled into Rhian’s lap and began to suck her thumb.

 _Oh, stars…_    Rhian just held her tight and stroked her black hair as she rocked her to and fro. 

 _“Iwi selami newi,”_ An older girl came and sat down beside her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that means,” she smiled.

To Rhian’s surprise, the girl responded in Westron.  “It means ‘hello’ in my language.”

“Hello!  What’s your name?”

 “My slave name was Sadie.” The girl said.

“What is the name your mother and father gave you?”

“It is Yara.  It means ‘butterfly.’”

“Yara?  That’s lovely!  Can you tell me this little one’s name?”

“Her name is Nayla.  She’s my little sister.”

Rhian looked down at the large eyes of the child in her lap.  “How old is she?”

“She is nine.” 

Rhian instinctively held the child tighter.  “I see you love your sister very much.  Have you seen the Healer yet?”

The girl shook her head, and looked worried.  “Could we stay together?”

“Of course.   If you like, I can go with you.”

Yara sighed in relief.  “What will happen to us now?”

“Our friends in Dale are looking for a nice, warm place for you to stay, while we wait for the messages to reach your King.”

“Why would you do this?”

“King Bard is very upset that you have been taken against your will, and wants to make sure you are returned to your parents.”

“Is he a good King, like Abdullon?”

“He is a very good King.  King Thranduil will also will help protect you.  He is an Elf. And, of course, you are in King Dain’s Palace, where you are safe.”

“Like her?” she pointed to Elénaril.

“Yes.  And like my friend Tauriel, do you see?”  Rhian looked over to where the Elleth was surrounded by a small group and laughing.  “And like my friend Turamarth, who came with us.”

“I do not see her.”

“Turamarth is a male Elf.  He is out in the Hall,” Rhian pointed through the doorway to where the Elf was standing with Óin and Ori.  When he caught her eye, she gestured for him to approach. “He is very nice.  Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes.  But…”

“Yara,” Rhian said softly.   “Elves _never, ever_ harm others like those terrible people did.  You will never have to feel frightened of Elves, or of the Dwarves, or any of my friends.”

They watched the tall, auburn-haired Elf approach them and sat down cross-legged beside her.  “How are they?” Turamarth asked Rhian.

“In need of lots of love and affection.” She smiled and made the introductions.

“This is Yara who is… how old are you, sweetheart?”

“I am thirteen,” she bowed her head, touched her chest then her forehead, in a gesture of greeting.  _“Iwi selami newi.”_

Tur copied the gesture.  _“Mae g'ovannen, Yara,”_ he said.  “That means ‘hello’ in my language.  I am very happy to meet you.  And who is this lovely little one?”

“This is Nayla.”  Rhian smiled down at her. 

“I did not know Elves before.” Yara said.  “I like your ears.”

“Thank you.  I like them, too.” Tur grinned, then turned to the young boy that spoke to Hannah earlier.  “What is your name?” 

“My name is Fasih, Miss.”

“Oh, no,” the Elf chuckled.  “Do not let the long hair fool you.” He winked.  “I am not a Miss.   I am Turamarth.”

The evening went thus, until all the children had been examined and interviewed.  Tauriel and Adila decided to stay the night with them, so after many hugs and goodbyes, it was time to travel back to Dale.

 

During the ride home, Hannah put her arm around Rhian.  “Are you all right, love?  You good with all this?”

“I’m tired, but I’m good.  I really am.” 

 

***************

 

“My Lords, the wagons have returned from Erebor.”

“Good.”  Bard got up and put his book away.  “Let see what happened, you lot.”

The children had long since gone to bed. Galion offered to stay with them, so Thranduil, Hilda and Percy could join others in the conference room.

“My Lord, I hope you do not mind, but Rhian asked to be dropped off at her home to see to Darryn.”  Turamarth said, as soon as they entered.  “But here is the information she recorded for each child.”  He handed the King of Dale a stack of papers full of Rhian’s neat handwriting

“Oh, that’s fine.  How did she do?”

“Very well.” Hannah smiled.  Really, really good.  I’ll be watching, though, but I’m proud of her.”

“Good.  Is everybody here?”

“Tauriel and Adila decided to stay overnight with the children, to offer them some security.”  Turamarth informed them.  “I was asked to cover her shift with the children tomorrow, and a message has been sent to Adila’s husband, but she told me he was expecting her to stay.”

“Good idea.”  Bard turned to Thranduil.  “Can you asked Feren to rearrange the schedule?  I’d rather keep all this within a small group of people right now, and I need Turamarth available.  Would that be a problem?”

“We can do that.”  Thranduil agreed.

“Let’s all sit down then.  What did we find out, Elénaril?”

The Healer began her report.  “I believe it is well that Lord Thranduil will arrange for Elven caretakers to live in the shelter with the children.  Elves are not Men; therefore, the children do not perceive them as a threat, even unconsciously.” 

Everyone around the table nodded.

“How are the children physically?” Bard asked.

“Do you wish to know all the details, My Lord?”

 “Everything.  I know it’s going to be bad, but we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

The Healer sighed and picked up some papers in front of her.  “Of the twenty-seven children we saw, eighteen of them were female, and nine were male.  The boys ranged in ages from fifteen years of age to as young as ten.  All of them have scarring around their rectal openings, but three of the youngest ones have suffered serious damage which will require surgery.  Of those nine boys, two suffer from infections which involve ulcers in their mouths, and on their genitals which we can stop, but we do not yet know the damage already done, nor if we can reverse it.”

Bard quickly looked at Thranduil, who swallowed, but remained stoic.

“Oh, bloody fuck…”  Percy murmered, and this time Hilda didn’t kick him.  She took his hand, and tearfully set her jaw in determination.

Under the table, he felt Thranduil squeezed his leg, sending him strength, which he greatly appreciated.

“Go on,” Bard swallowed.  “What else?  What about the girls?” 

“Of the eighteen girls, ranging in ages from sixteen to nine, seven are suffering from the same types of diseases.  Again, we do not know if we can reverse the damage, but we will try.  As for the younger ones, they have suffered… physical injuries.   I need more time to learn the extent of the damage done, but it could affect their ability to carry children in the future.”

Elénaril looked at Hannah and sighed, and the midwife gave her friend a reassuring pat on her arm.  “Do you want me to tell them?”

Elénaril shook her head, “Thank you, but I will do it.”  She then met the eyes of both Kings.  “I do not know how to tell you this…” She took a deep breath, “Six of the girls are pregnant.  The youngest of these is twelve.”

 _Oh, please Eru_ …  Bard’s stomach dropped, and he felt a little sick.  “Oh no…”

“Bard,” Thranduil said quietly.  “Whatever happens, we will get them through it.”

“Yes.” Bard gave him a grim smile.  “Yes, we will.”

“Who all knows about…” Bard gestured toward the medical report, “that?”

“No one but those in this room, My Lord.  I thought it best that we tell you first, although we need to confer with Adila, regarding the beliefs and traditions of their country.”

“What do you mean?”

“Two of these pregnant girls are infected with these diseases.  It can cause terrible harm to the unborn child, as well as threaten the lives of the mothers.  In all probability, they will miscarry.  However,” Elénaril swallowed.  “The child who is twelve…”

“…My Lord,” Hannah finished for her.  “The little girl doesn’t seem to be infected, and that’s good, but it’s important to remember that just because a girl begins her courses and can get pregnant, doesn’t mean her body is ready to carry children.  We don’t know what to do, because carrying a child to term could ruin her insides, and birth might kill her.”

“Oh, holy stars…”  Percy whispered, and ran his hand over his face.

“Surely you cannot mean to…” Thranduil was aghast.  “Elves cannot –“

“No, My Lord,” Elénaril said quietly.  “Elves _cannot.”_

“What does that mean?”  Hilda asked.

“Right now,” Hannah said firmly, “it doesn’t mean _anything._   Only that we’re worried about it, and we need to keep an eye on things.” Hannah interjected.  “What I do know for sure is that I’d give anything if Daeron were here.  He did this work for two centuries and I’m sure he’s come across this situation before.”

“We’ll send a letter out to him, right away,” Bard promised. “Better yet, a Raven.”

 “I am truly sorry to have to tell you such things, My Lord.”  Elénaril whispered, with tears in her eyes. “I…”

 _“Mae garnen, Elénaril.”_   Thranduil told her softly.  “ _Athof savo amdir, ma?”_

The Healer smiled at the King gratefully. _“Ci athae.”_

A thought occurred to Bard.  “Hannah?  Rhian doesn’t know any of this, does she?”

“No, and I’d just as soon she doesn’t, if that’s all right.  Not for a while, anyway.”

“Fine by me.” He looked around the room.  “In fact, I’m placing this report under Seal until further notice.  All the people in Dale need to know is that the Dwarves found them, and rescued them.  I’ll make sure the rest of them know first thing tomorrow.”

“Good idea, Bard,” Percy nodded. 

 “Now,” Bard nodded, “in all honestly, it could take weeks to get a suitable place for them to live here, and those kids can’t wait even a day to be treated.  In light of what you just told me, Elénaril, we’ll see if Dáin the Dilna will allow us to set up full treatment center in Erebor and operate or anything else we need to do there.  While they’re recovering in the Mountain, we’ll have more time to get ready.”

“I like that,” Hilda said. “That’ll give us time to get some warm clothes fitted for them, too.  Maybe Glélindë can come and get them measured up for winter coats and things.”

“Excellent.” 

“I will go to the Mountain and help, Bard.” Thranduil told him. “I can help the Healers.”

He smiled at his Elf.  “I was hoping you’d say that.  I’ve got to get ready for the Remembrance ceremony in three days, so I’ll leave you to that, and to gather some Elves to come.  Can you get all this arranged for first thing in the morning?”

“I will.”

 “That’s it, then.” Bard adjourned the meeting and stood up.  “Thank you everyone, and let’s try to get some sleep, if we can.  There’s lots to do.”

 

***************

 

“How are you, _Meleth nîn_?”   Thranduil crawled in bed and held out his arms for his Bowman.  “It was a difficult day, though you did very well.”  He gathered Bard against his chest and kissed his hair.

“Oh, the day wasn’t _all bad_ …  You came home, and we had a nice, private reunion.”

“We did.  And the children had a nice time with the Dwarves. The children loved Bofur’s song about Bilbo’s plates.”

Bard chuckled.  “Poor Bilbo.  Can you imagine twelve noisy, messy Dwarves showing up at his house?”

“No.  He is as fastidious as Galion.  Have you ever seen his rooms at the Palace?  He folds his dirty laundry, before putting it in the basket!”

“No, but I’ve seen his desk in his study there.  All his pens lined up precisely, and pencils all in a neat row…  I don’t know how he does it.  When I work, I spread out all over the place.” 

Bard hummed as Thranduil rubbed small circles in his back and shoulders.  “That feels good, love.  I tell you, tonight I’d give anything to be a humble bargeman and leave someone else in charge of this mess.”

“Shh…  No ‘Kinging’ is allowed in our bedchamber, _Meleth nîn.”_

“You’re right.”  The Bowman sighed.  “I don’t know if I can relax enough to get to sleep for a while, though.”

“Close your eyes, and I will sing you to sleep.”

“I’d like that.”

 

**City of Dale, 29 th of October, 2942 T.A.**

The next morning there were lots of questions at breakfast.

“Why are you so dressed up, _Ada_?”  Tilda asked.

“I have to go to Erebor, _Tithen Pen_.  Tauriel will be there for a couple of days and I must help her with some things.  I will take you to school this morning, but your Da will fetch you this afternoon.”

“Can’t I go, too?  I want to see the Tauriel!”

“Your sister is working, and you must go to school.” The Elvenking replied absently, then turned to her siblings.  “Sigrid and Bain, Rúmil and Ivran will be taking you to school this morning.  Ruvyn will stay with Tilda and Turamarth will be working closely with me in Erebor for the next several days.”

Tilda’s voice took on a whiny tone.  “But _why-y?_   I want to go to Erebor!”

“No, _hênig_.”

“I don’t get to do _anything!”_ the little girl snapped, threw down her napkin and crossed her arms.

“Tilda! Stop pouting, this instant!”  Thranduil reprimanded her. “You have a great deal to be thankful for, and have opportunities that most children will never have.”

Tilda’s eyes widened in shock.

The Elvenking wasn’t finished.  “How many children do not have families, to share a nice breakfast, to walk them to school, or to tuck them in at night with a story and a kiss?  I am disappointed at this behavior, and it will stop, now!”

There was utter silence at the table, as everyone froze, and looked at their plates.

They had _never_ heard Thranduil speak sharply to their youngest; normally it fell to Bard or Hilda, to be the disciplinarian.  They all knew how much  _Ada_ loved to pet and fuss over his _Tithen Pen,_ and they forgave him for indulging her, because she was still delicate and needed to be carefully watched.  They also knew Thranduil still suffered from anxiety from nearly losing her last winter.

Even so, it wasn’t good to allow their Little Bean to turn into a spoiled brat, and thigh no one said it aloud, everyone was relieved to see that _Ada_ had finally realized it, too.

It was Bard who broke the silence.  “Could you please pass the butter?” he said nonchalantly.  Then he added in a pleasant voice, “Little Bean, I think you owe your _Ada_ an apology, don’t you?”

Tilda turned beet red, her lips wobbled, and her eyes filled with tears.  “I’m sorry, _Ada,"_ she mumbled.

“Apology accepted.”  Thranduil said casually.  “Here is the butter, Bard.  Now, Bain, tell me about this examination in history you have this week.  What do you need to study?”

And in a few minutes, things were back to normal in the Royal Family…

…and Princess Tilda, still teary, had learned an important lesson.

 

When it was time to walk her to school, the little girl was very quiet, as Thranduil helped her into her coat and her blue hat and mittens that Hilda had made.

“ _Ada_?” She finally said, as they crossed the courtyard, with Esta trotting beside them.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Are you still mad at me?”  She looked up at him with big eyes.

“Of course I am not, _Tithen Pen,"_   he smiled.  “Tell me: are _you_ happy with how you behaved at breakfast?”

“No, I guess not.” she picked at the sleeve of the Elvenking’s tunic.  “I didn’t mean to be stupid.”

Thranduil stopped at the fountain, sat down and pulled her into his lap.

“You are not stupid, Tilda.  But there is no excuse for getting so caught up in our troubles, we forget the good things we have, is there?”

“No.  I feel bad, though.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she wiped her eyes.  “I’m mad at me, and I don’t like it.”

“Learning from our mistakes can be difficult, _hênig_.”

“But you never make mistakes!”

Thranduil laughed.  “I wish that were true! I have made some _terrible_ mistakes.  And like you, I get  _very_ angry with myself.” He sighed.  “But,” he booped her nose, “every mistake has taught me an important lesson, so I will not make it again.”

“Like what?”

“Well, do you remember the story I told about Feren and me, when I told a lie and tried to ride my father’s warhorse?”

“Uh huh.   And your Da’s made you clean the barns.  And your bottoms hurt."

“Right.  So, what did I learn, _Tithen Pen?”_

“To do as your Da says, and stay away from his horse.  And don't tell fibs."

“And what did _you_ learn this morning?”

“To be glad I have you and Da and everybody.  And when you say no, you mean no, and don’t argue.”

“Very good.” He kissed her cheek. “I am proud of you.  Now, we must hurry, or you will be late for school.”

He stood up and carried her as he and Ruvyn walked briskly through the streets.

“ _Ada_?”  Tilda laid her head on his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“I love you.” He kissed her hair.

Thranduil dreaded what he was going to be doing today; it was the darkest side of human nature that he knew existed.  But he also knew that beautiful, ordinary things, such as a typical breakfast with his family, and taking his _Tithen Pen_  to school, would get him through it.

 

***************

 

**Lothlórien, 29th of October, 2942 T.A.**

The routine in the Golden Wood was such a contrast to life in the Woodland Realm and Dale, that Daeron found comfort in the distraction. Though things here were quieter, he still found himself extraordinarily busy, which suited him.

 What also helped was the lack of hostility between himself and Penlod.   Since that night caring for young Isbeil and her small daughter, their working relationship was better, to Orlin’s relief, and they were beginning to be friends.

Thranduil’s warnings to in his letter Daeron were well-founded, as it turned out.  His cares here were greatly lessened, but his sorrows would not completely abandon him, as much as he wished otherwise. 

During his waking hours, he could control his thoughts, should they travel in a direction he did not want, he would shake his head slightly, and quickly distract himself with the task before him.

But at night, no one can control where a dream travels...

 

 

> _“Daeron,” she whimpered, as he kissed his way down her throat to take one of her dark, rigid nipples in his mouth and began to suckle._
> 
> _His hands ran over her soft skin, as he explored her curves, then the the hot, wet heat between her legs..._
> 
> _Rhian threw her head back and let out a throaty moan. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice low and breathy.  “I want you inside me…. I love you so much…”_
> 
> _“Gi melin, hervess nîn bain.  Tolen dhron le uireb.” He whispered, as he began to enter her…_  

Daeron sat up in a sweat, gasping for air.

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed to find himself alone in the quiet darkness of Lothlórien. The moon was shining in through the window to his right, and he could feel the late October breeze across his skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool him off.

In his mind, he still saw Rhian lying underneath him, moaning softly while her hair splayed out on the white linen pillow. 

Daeron groaned; he was still painfully hard, and his skin burned, longing for her touch.   He lay back down, still panting, and reached down and cradled his throbbing, dripping cock in his hands and slicked his long fingers and began to stroke, slowly at first, but quickly speeded up, because he just couldn’t take it anymore.

His eyes closed, and he thought about her body, and what it would feel like under his hands.  He imagined the softness of her breasts, and curves of her waist and the feel of her legs, as she wrapped herself around him, begging him to fuck her faster, harder…

 _“Ai…”_ he moaned quietly, closed his eyes and whispered into dark all the things he longed to say to her, but could not.

But when he pictured her green eyes, looking up at him with love and trust and longing, when he imagined her smile, one just for him…

…that’s what sent him over the edge.

“Mmmmf!”  He barely managed to cover his mouth in time to stifle his cries, as every muscle in his body stiffened.  His back arched off the bed, and he threw his head back, as the waves of his orgasm crashed over him.  He shut his eyes tight, but tears escaped anyway.  The first ones were from relief as he came, but were soon replaced by tears of longing and loneliness.

His moans of pleasure turned into sobs, as Daeron rolled onto his side, curled up in a ball, and hugged himself, and he cried for a long time.

He missed her...   _Sweet Elbereth, he missed her so much..._

 

***************

 

**LETTERS FROM THE GOLDEN WOOD**

**To Thranduil from Daeron:**  

 

> _Suilad,_ _Aran nîn_ ,
> 
> _I thank you for the news concerning your children, and give thanks for their continued good health.  I must tell you I received an amusing note from Princess Tilda full of cheerful news about her school and her friends, which brought a smile to my face._
> 
> _The Lord and Lady sent for me, and showed me the letter they received from Princess Tilda. It seems she asked them the same thing she wanted from me: permission to increase her physical activity, to keep up with her friends!_
> 
> _They very much enjoyed hearing about all the children, but especially wanted to know the details of Tilda’s illness and her subsequent recovery.  Though saddened to hear of her struggles, you may rest assured that they plan to respond and encourage her to listen to her parents and her healers. I must say, it was rather clever of her to be sneaky like that, and I see it as an encouraging sign!_
> 
> _I have recently returned from the borders after my first tour and Marchwarden Haldir was pleased with all of us.  Warden Orophin will supervise Elion’s group and I expect pass along the same good news._
> 
> _Before that, I went with the Healers to a village called Langhold, to begin serving the Men, and successfully treated many of them.  In fact, my midwifery skills were put to good use, as we made a late-night dash back to the village to deliver a healthy baby girl to a young mother there._
> 
> _Through this experience, I was able to win over one of the opponents of our exchange program!  Penlod, a Healer who trained under Lord Elrond, overcame his doubts and I am happy to say we are now working together better as colleagues and slowly becoming friends._
> 
> _Thank you, Lord Thranduil, for encouraging me to take advantage of this opportunity._
> 
> _Your humble servant,_
> 
> _Daeron Adamarion, Lieutenant_
> 
> _Guardian of the Woodland Realm_

_***_

**To Idril and Adamar from Daeron:**

 

> _Dear Ada and Nana (and Aunt Indis and Uncle Ómar, too)_
> 
> _I hope you can see this wondrous place someday!  I live in the highest of trees, in houses that are well-crafted, light and breezy that as soon as I arrived, a peace entered my heart and has not left me since.  Though I do miss my family and friends, I love it here, and look forward all there is to see and do in this area.  _
> 
> _Do not be jealous; I am told the winters here are a great deal milder than we have experienced in the North, and even easier because this place has something about it that makes Caras Galadhon barely acknowledge harsh weather.  The horses love it!_
> 
> _So far, I have only visited one village, but now that I am back from serving time at the borders, there are plans to visit another next week.  The other Healers here are learning to work together in this new field of practice and look to me to support them, which I am happy to do.  I have a young colleague named Orlin who is thrilled with idea of working with Men, and find them as pleasant as I do._
> 
> _I am grateful, Nana, that you urged me to bring all my notebooks with me!  Many of these books I had not even looked at since I worked in Old Dale, under King Girion!  When Orlin and another Healer named Penlod approach me with a passage in them, I feel like someone else wrote them!_
> 
> _Dearest family, please write to me soon and tell me how things are at the Palace.  And I will continue to regale you all with my adventures here and hope you find them entertaining._
> 
> _With much love,_
> 
> _Daeron_

_***_

**To Thranduil from Celeborn:**

 

> _Suilad, Aran Thranduil:_
> 
> _I continue to be pleased with your Guardians’ performance here, as I hope you are with my Wardens._
> 
> _Though Daeron must spend much of his time in the Healing House, the Marchwarden continues to be impressed with his natural skill with the sword._
> 
> _Your Guardians have received extensive training in the use of our Galadhrim Longbows, which are used at the fences to ward off enemies at a great distance.  Your Archers, Elinel and Ranuin , easily passed their tests and have been gifted with their own, while the rest each received the Recurve Bows we are known for.  Though still much longer than the ones used in your forest, these are used with our heavier broadhead arrows which are effective at close range._
> 
> _In closing, I am flattered and moved by your kind invitation, and hope to make the trip within the next couple of years, if possible._
> 
> _My best to you, and your family, cousin, and of course, I always pray that you remain well._
> 
> _My fondest regards,_
> 
> _Celeborn_

_***_

**To Turamarth from Daeron:**

 

> _Suilad, Gwador:_
> 
> _Alas!  I can see how difficult it is to live with an Elf who does nothing but make your life easier!  How difficult it must be to do half the washing, half the dishes and half the chores!  Maybe you could spend all that extra time in the sparring ring, so you might just once beat me with swords._
> 
> _I should also tell you that I have received my very own Galadhrim bow, and you will never best me on the Archery Range again!  These are made by wood that only grows here in Lothlórien, are famous all over Middle Earth._
> 
> _Tur, you would be speechless (and that would be something to see, with the way you talk) to see what these Galadhrim can do with their Longbows!  _
> 
> _Yes, my bow is longer than yours, (but you knew this already, didn’t you?  That is why you have always been jealous of me!) but you will be green with envy when you see the ones given to Elinel and Ranuin!  They passed their tests and now possess bows nearly as tall as they are, and their flight arrows hit the center of a target at 550 yards! Can you imagine it!_
> 
> _My medical practice proceeds apace, and you will be relieved to know that I have resolved my difficulties with my fellow Healer, Penlod.  It seems his trepidation had to do with something in his past, but we have spoken at length and are now becoming friends._
> 
> _Thank you for the update on Rhian’s progress.  I do think of her, cousin, though it is only at night when it becomes difficult.  I miss her so much, that every part of me aches to jump back on Aegis and race home to be with her!   I wish I knew why the Lady asked for me, and what her message meant._
> 
> _She told me at our first meeting that when the time is right, she will “send for me.”  I have no idea what that means, but I do not feel afraid.  Something about her tells me she only intends good things, and I trust her, Tur, I really do._
> 
> _I doubt you will be surprised to know how often I think of Sellwen these days, though I wish I understood it myself.  I wonder now, as I have many times over the years, what happened to my little Daughter of Joy?  I remember asking Aunt Indis, what Eru does with a beautiful little soul like hers, who never had the chance to be born…  I think that is a question I will pray about for the rest of my existence, whether it be here in Middle Earth, in Valinor, or in the Halls of Mandos, if it is my fate to go there._
> 
> _Of all the things I wish you could see here, evenings are my favorite.  I go out on the balcony to await the twilight, and watch the Elves carry their long, tapered candles, and sing the most beautiful song, as they light the lamps on the many walkways and staircases, and Oh!  To see the City thus is a sight I will never forget.  I sit either alone, or with my housemates and sip wine and breath the peaceful and feel the day’s cares lift from my shoulders._
> 
> _On that thought, I can think of no better way to close this letter, except to say how blessed I am to have you as my dearer-than-brother._
> 
> _Be well, and write soon,_
> 
> _Daeron_

_***_

**To Tilda from Daeron:**

 

> _Hello, my dear Princess,_
> 
> _I was very happy to receive your letter, and rejoiced to hear how much you like your new school.  I am also happy to hear about your new friend Gwen.  Does she come from Dale?  I do not remember seeing a little girl by that name at the Palace.  You must tell me all about her, and please tell her I am glad you have such a nice friend._
> 
> _Your Ada is correct, when he says we live high in the treetops here.  Can you imagine it?  In the Golden Wood, the trees are even bigger around than a house, and so tall that to look up, you could not see the tops!_
> 
> _But once you walk up the stairs, the houses here are very beautiful and comfortable!  We have the same kind of walkways that you see at the Palace, which saves us from continually climbing up and down the trees.  I am told your Ada drew some pictures and you can believe him, as he has visited this place many times._
> 
> _Now, to answer your question, Miss Tilda, I cannot tell you if you can run, because Elénaril is your Healer now.  You must ask her, and promise to do exactly what she says.  I know you wish your body would hurry up and be strong again, and if I knew of a way to make that happen, I promise you I would._
> 
> _In the meantime, please do your best at school, have fun with your friends, and allow Esta to look after you.  Remember how blessed you are to have a family who love you as much as they do, and want only for you to be well and happy._
> 
> _With much affection,_
> 
> _Daeron_

_***_

**To Bard from Celeborn:**

 

> _Greetings to the honorable King of Dale:_
> 
> _We were deeply saddened to hear the news you had sent, and of course, we will do what we can.  I am familiar with most of the rulers of the villages nearby and have asked to meet with them as soon as possible to decide on a plan of action._
> 
> _I will also write to King Fengel in Rohan, though sadly, I do not know how effective that will be.  A ray of hope in this would be the Lord Leód, Marshal of the Wold.  I have met with him several times, and find him to possess everything a Rohirrim aspires to be.  Very little goes on in his territory that he does not know about, and while he will never slander his King, he cares deeply for the welfare of his people, as well as those who seek safe passage through his territory._
> 
> _Sadly, I believe you may be correct in your suspicions about this, and I greatly fear that the fight will be a difficult one.  You will find that the Eastern lands, such as Harad have a history of falling under the seductive speech of our Great Enemy, encouraging their hatred toward us.  I think your discovery may be the most compelling reason why these Easterling fall prey to the lies of the Evil One, for what worse way can a people be hurt than to steal their children?  And naturally, this monstrous activity will serve as fodder to convince them, we are at fault?_
> 
> _If we can prove to the leaders of these lands that we value the same things they do, such as a loving family, a safe home and meaningful work, we can achieve a peace this might have a direct impact on future events, if you understand my meaning.  _
> 
> _I will send more information as soon as I can.  I look forward to working with you, and continue to wish you and my cousin a continued success with your family, as well as all your endeavors._
> 
> _With warmest regards,_
> 
> _Lord Celeborn_

***

**To Tilda from Lady Galadriel:**

 

> _Greetings to young Tilda, Princess of Dale:_
> 
> _I was pleased to receive your letter and take great delight in the wonderful picture you drew of your home!_
> 
> _Your friend Daeron has told Lord Celeborn and me many stories of you and your family.  He also tells me you have a dog named Esta who helps you.  Could you draw me a picture of her?_
> 
> _I would like to help you with your request, my dear, but I am afraid I cannot.  I am told your Healer is very skilled, and you must trust her to know what is best for you._
> 
> _In the meantime, enjoy your family, and friends, and remember: laughter and a cheerful heart can do much to heal the body._
> 
> _I look forward to hearing from you soon._
> 
> _Your friend,_
> 
> _Galadriel_
> 
> _Lady of Lothlórien_

_***_

**To Rhian from Daeron:**  

 

> _Hind Calen, my sweet friend,_
> 
> _Word has reached me of your brave deeds with those poor children, and my heart swelled with pride for you.  Your compassion for others is no surprise to me, Rhian.  I have seen you with the Royal Family and of course your patience with little Darryn._
> 
> _Is it true he can pull himself up now?  Has his hair gotten any longer?  I do not need to ask if he is still full of smiles and sunshine – I doubt that has changed._
> 
> _I imagine your Da is still working long hours getting things ready for your second winter in Dale.  It is hard to believe a year has gone by, is it not?  And yet, look how much things have changed for us all!   Sometimes it is good to look back, only to measure how far we all have come._
> 
> _In that respect, my dear Rhian, you have so much to be proud of and to be thankful for!  You are better than you have ever been, and you have a good life to look forward to. Darryn is a beautiful healthy little boy, whose smile makes everyone feel like the sun shines a bit warmer._
> 
> _And you have a Da who loves you!  I am blessed with a loving family, and it does my heart good to see you now have the same, as well as many friends._
> 
> _Lothlórien is one of the most beautiful places in Middle Earth!  Please be sure to ask King Thranduil what it looks like at night, because only someone who has seen it, can understand describe the beautiful music while the lamps are lit._
> 
> _I wish I could write more this time, but I have just been told I must make ready to leave; a fever has swept through another village near here, and we must go and give them aid._
> 
> _Be sweet as you always are, and return my kisses to our beautiful boy.  I think of you both constantly, as I do all who are dear to me, though far away._
> 
> _Affectionately yours,_
> 
> _Daeron._

 

***************

 

HARAD TRANSLATIONS (which actually is Amharic.)

 _Selami yibelu!_ – Hello, children!

 _Inatē yeti nati?_ – Where is my mother?

 _Welajochē yeti ālu?_ – Where are my parents?

 _Ahuni wede bēti memelesi inichilaleni?_ – Can we go home now?

 _Ābakishini! Wede bēti mehēdi ifeligalehu!_ – Please!  I want to go home!

 

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Mae garnen, Elénaril –_ Well done, Elénaril. 

 _Athof savo amdir, ma?_ – Let us have hope, yes?

 _Ci athae –_ Thank you.

 _Gi melin, hervess nîn bain, Tolen dhron le uireb…_ \- I love you, my beautiful wife.  I will always want you…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE:  While I understand and respect that the issue of unwanted pregnancy is passionately argued about in our world, my story reflects the traditions and attitudes of Middle Earth. Thank you. :-)
> 
>  


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the anniversary of the destruction of Laketown, and the survivors spend the day in remembrance, where Bowen gets a little support from his friends.
> 
> Tilda is thrilled to get a letter from the Galadriel, and tries hard to follow the Lady’s advice.
> 
> Thranduil has been helping the Harad children receive medical care, but it’s taking its toll.  And what about the monsters who kidnapped them?
> 
>  

 

 

“Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don't let it spoil you, for it's wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can't have the one you want.”   
― [ **Louisa May Alcott**](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1315.Louisa_May_Alcott), [ **Little Women**](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/3244642)

**City of Dale, 31 st of October 2942 T.A.**

Today, the Marketplace was quiet.  No work was done in the corridors behind the Great Hall.  All the shops and schools were closed, and there would be no work on the buildings or in the fields, and everyone who were walking through the streets spoke in soft somber tones. 

Today was the anniversary of Smaug’s attack on Laketown; a day set aside for mourning and remembrance.

At noon, everyone was gathered around the large, polished monument made of granite, bearing a bronze plaque, to commemorate the event, and pay tribute to those lives lost.  A gift from the Dwarves, it had been placed near the fountain in the Public Gardens, to honor and remember those who had lost their lives on that horrible, terrifying night. 

The crowd contained those Laketown refugees, though their numbers had dwindled even further after the Battle of the Five Armies.  In less than one month, more than half the population of Esgaroth had been lost, and today was filled with memories of absent friends.

A raised platform had been set up to seat the extended Royal Family, the members of Dale’s Council, King Thranduil, Commander Feren, and the King and Queen Under the Mountain.

Just after the noon bell, Bard stood up, went to the podium, and after ordering a Moment of Silence, offered a short prayer, asking the Valar to help those who had perished find peace and beauty beyond this world.  He thanked Eru for giving the survivors the strength and determination to continue to build new lives, here in the City of Bells, but never forget those absent from their midst.

> _“At the end of our lives, whether they be long or short, all that will remain of our time here on Middle Earth are the memories others have of us.  We will exist only in the stories we tell our children, and our children’s children._
> 
> _Our loved ones who perished on that terrible night, deserve to live on, so let us wipe away our tears and remember not the way they died, but celebrate the way they lived among us!_
> 
> _Their lives are so much more than simply our loss, and we must continue to tell these stories, so that not one of them will ever be forgotten!  Tell your children about them, tell your children’s children, and never let it be forgotten that these precious souls were here on Middle Earth once, and they made a difference in our lives.”_

Then the King of Dale signaled to Percy, who lifted a horn to his lips and blew a signal to the tallest bell tower in the City, and soon the people in the crowd grew silent, as they heard the slow, deep tones, of the largest bell in the City.

As the bell began to ring, Bard and the children went over to the memorial, and the King took a wreath that Princess Sigrid had been holding and placed it at the foot of the memorial.  The Royal family bowed their heads for a moment, then stepped back on the platform, where Bard motioned for the others to step forward and pay their respects. They lined up quietly, and solemnly placed flowers to remember their lost loved ones, and renew their commitment to live and prosper in their memory.

And during all this, the bell tolled, and would continue to do so, throughout the day.   

The King of Dale would only permit the bell to ring until three o’clock (It was a mercy.  Had the huge bell been asked to ring for each man, woman or child killed that night, it could not stop its slow, mournful sound for twenty six days).

Following the Memorial Service in the park, a banquet was to be served for the Laketown survivors in the Great Hall. 

This would not be the customary Pot Luck, but was prepared and served by the Dwarves and Elves, as a gesture of goodwill (and perhaps an act of atonement, on the part of the Dwarves, though everyone was too polite to say).

 

***************

 

Turamarth had finished helping serve the meal, and took a minute to visit Bowen and his family at their table.  Rúmil had already been asked to join them, and was chatting away with Maddox, who had begun to hero-worship the tall, blond Elf.

“How are you today, _Adanneth?”_ Turamarth smiled Bowen.

The boy shrugged looked down at his plate.  “I’m okay.”

“You did not eat very much.” He noticed.  “Are you hungry?”

“Not really.”  The boy shrugged.  “The food’s good though, it’s just…  I don’t feel like eating much.”  He looked around the Hall and noticed the lively conversation.  “I don’t understand why the people are smiling, Tur.  They all cried at the park, and now look!  It’s like they forgot already!”

“Are you sure that is the reason, _Mellon nîn_?”  The Elf asked him thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“Did not King Bard encourage your people to speak of those who died, and to share memories?  Perhaps the people around you are telling stories of their loved ones.  It is wrong to do this?”

“I don’t know.”  The boy looked confused.  “How do you know that’s what they’re doing?  What if they really did forget about them?”

Turamarth stood up. “Come; we will walk around for a while and listen for ourselves.”

The boy and the Elf meandered around many of the tables, greeting those they knew, and caught snatches of conversations that proved Tur’s theory true:  Rodric, the Innkeeper, had his arm around his wife Catrina.  She was telling their children stories about their Auntie, who was bossy when they were growing up, so their brothers got back at her by putting a snake in her bed.

They stopped and said hello to Commander Feren and his wife, whose daughters, Alis and Dafina lost both their parents that day.  Gruffudd, was telling the little girls the story of when their father asked permission to marry their mother, and how nervous he was, which made them all smile and laugh.

“I remember Gruffudd,” Bowen gestured toward the old man.  “He was crying so hard at the park, they had to help him find a chair, and now he’s laughing!”

“Yes, he is.  But I should tell you, that the reason Master Gruffudd was given a chair was because he is missing a leg.”

“Oh.”

 Tur stood up.  “Come, let us find a quieter place, and we will talk about this.”

Turamarth ushered the boy outside, to a bench underneath a tree by the edge of the Courtyard.  “What do you think of that, Bowen?  Was Gruffudd wrong to speak of his daughter?”

“Maybe not.  I just don’t know how to think of Mam and Da without wanting to cry.  I wish I was like them in there, but I just can’t do it.”

“Just because you cry now, does not mean you always will.  The wounds are still fresh to you, Bowen.”

“But Da died almost a year ago!”

“This is true, but you never faced it, until your mother became ill, and now you keenly feel the loss of both, which I can imagine is very hard.  Many children here lost their parents, Bowen.  Does it help to know you are not the only one?”

“Not really.  All those other kids seem to be doing good, and I’m not.”

“That is due to the reasons I just explained.  Were these same children as sad as you last winter?”

“Aye.  Maybe.  I don’t know.”  He nodded.  “You’ve got your Mam and Da—“

“But I do not.” A voice said.

They both looked up and saw Rúmil approach them.  “I am sorry to eavesdrop, Bowen.  Might I join you?”

“Sure.” The boy nodded, and the other Elf settled himself on the other side of the bench. 

“I lost my father when I was a small child, and like yours, was killed by Orcs.  My mother was suffering from her grief and it was endangering her life, so my older brother, Haldir had to take her to the Grey Havens, where she sailed across the sea to Valinor.”

“Can she come back?”

“No, Bowen.  She can never come back.  I will not see her until I go there myself.  I will not see either one of them, and I miss them very much.  Like you, I was cared for by others.  Haldir is much older than me, and after my parents were gone, he raised me, with my brother Orophin’s help.”

“Did you cry?”

“Oh, yes.  I was angry, too, for a long time.  Can you think of why?”

“I know I’m mad _a lot._   And I’m really, _mad_ because he said, in the Sick Tent that I should go talk to the stars and night, and the Valar would send help.”  The boy’s lip quivered.  “I did what he said, then Mam got sick and she died, too!”  Bowen angrily wiped his tears with the heel of his hand.  “He lied!”

“Why do you think he lied, Bowen _?”_   Rúmil asked him. 

“Because Da was supposed to get help, to make Mam get better!  He said Ulmo would send help and he didn’t!”

“I am very sorry about your mother’s illness, Bowen.  Perhaps it was something the Valar could not control, as much as they wanted to.”

“Why wouldn’t they?  It’s mean!”

“Bowen, if the Valar could control such things, there would be no Orcs, and no one would die in a war, because there would be no such thing.  No one would become sick or injured and no evil would exist in this world.  Sadly, not even Eru Ilúvitar can govern such things.”

Rúmil put his arm on the back of the bench and leaned closer to the boy.  “I am afraid what you wish for, Bowen, can only happen in the next life.  In the meantime, we all must work hard to serve the Valar, by helping our people and each other.”

“What was I supposed to ask the stars for then?  Why did I bother?”

“I think your father _did_ send help, Bowen,” the Warden answered.  “Do you not think it remarkable that Lord Bard and Daeron _just happened_ to be at the park the day Maddox hurt his ankle?  Did that not lead them to your home where they discovered the seriousness of your mother’s ailment?”

The boy sniffed, and remained silent.

“Maybe your Da asked the Valar to make sure you children were looked after by loving people.”  Tur put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “Just because the Valar cannot control everything, does not mean they are powerless.”

Bowen sighed.  “I still don’t feel like smiling or telling nice stories about Mam and Da.  And I tried talking to the sky at night, but I just… can’t.  Not yet.  I hope they’re not mad.”

“I am sure they understand.”  Rúmil smiled at the boy. 

“Turamarth takes me to this huge tree sometimes.  He tells me to talk about it.”

“That is good advice.”

“Rúmil? How long will it take before I’m better?”

“Who can say, _Adanneth?_ But you will.Someday, when you least expect it, you will find yourself thinking of some small pleasant thing about your parents, and you will smile.  Perhaps it was the memory of your father cutting an apple, or your mother smelling some flowers…  You will not always cry.  I promise.”

 

*******************

 

“So, sweetheart…” Ben put his arm around his daughter, as they were pushing Darryn’s pram home, after the banquet.  “You all right?”

“Aye.  To be honest, I only wanted to support you and our friends,” Rhian said quietly.  “Is it terrible that when I thought of Garth today, I didn’t feel a thing?”

“No, sweetheart; it’s a good sign.  Oh, I think you’ll probably still have the occasional nightmare, but it looks to me like you’ve put most of that behind you.  There’s nothing left to figure out, is there?  You’ve learned all you can learn, so now, it’s time to be happy for the one blessing that came out of it,” Ben pointed at the baby who was drifting off to sleep from the motions of the small carriage. 

“He is wonderful, isn’t he?”  Rhian giggled.  “Even when he’s teething and screaming his head off in the middle of the night…”  then she had a thought.  “Da, what do I tell him about Garth when he gets older?”

“Good question.  Let me ask you, what if Darryn wanted to know if you regretted marrying his Da?”

Rhian took a few minutes to think carefully.   “Maybe what Darryn would really be asking, is if I was glad I had _him._    I’ll never lie to my son, Da.  I won’t do it.  But I think what I would say is no matter who I married, I know the Valar would always want me to have the same child.  That’s all that really matters.”  She stopped and looked up at Ben.  “I think that’s the truth.”

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”  He kissed his daughter’s temple.  “Smart as a whip, you are.” 

“Afternoon, folks!” 

They recognized Evan’s friendly, but distinctive accent.  He walked across the street toward them,  dressed in riding clothes and boots, with his gloves in one hand.

“Well now, Evan!”  Ben smiled.  “What did you think of the goings on today?”

“Very moving.  They picked a nice place for the monument.”  The dark-haired man looked to the bell-tower which was still ringing in the background.  “That’s a nice touch, too.  So many lost…  I can’t get my head around it...”  He shook his head and sighed. “How was the dinner?”

“Didn’t you go?”

“Oh, no; it didn’t feel right to intrude.”

Rhian smiled.  “That’s sweet of you, but you would’ve been welcome; honest.”

“The food was grand, and most of us never had the chance for a funeral after the fires, you know.  It was right to take a day, and give them a proper farewell, and think on them.” 

 “I’m glad.” Evan looked at Rhian with concern.  “Are you all right?”

“We were just talking about that.”  The girl smiled.  “I’m really fine.  I’ve got my son,” she pointed to the pram, “so I’ve got nothing to mourn, do I?”

“Good.” He smiled. “So, Ben!  You’ve got a day off!  What are your plans?”

“Not a bloody thing!  I’m going to relax, enjoy my house and my family, and that’s it.  If you’re free, why don’t you join us?  I’ve got a new Stratagem board, and Rhian’s been wiping the floor with me - she’s that clever.  It’s giving me a complex, I tell you.”

“Oh, Da,” she smacked him on the chest.  “Stop that.  You’ve won, sometimes.”

“Only because you let me, sweetheart.” Ben grinned.  “Don’t think I’ve not noticed.”

“This is your family time…”

“Rhian!”  Hannah had spotted them on her walk home from the Great Hall and crossed to meet the small group.  “Hey Ben, Evan.” She greeted the men, then asked Rhian carefully.  “How are you doing?”

“I’m good Hannah, honest.  Hey!  Do you have plans?  I’ve got a roast we could put in the oven for dinner later, and  Evan’s coming over and we could all have a nice visit.”

Hannah thought for a moment.  “Why not?  I was planning on going home and staring at the dust and the mending.  It’s not right to do those things today.”

“No, it’s not.”  Ben grinned at the woman.  “This is a day to spend with good friends and family, and you’re both to us.”

“I’ve got some pies at home.  Let me go get them, and I’ll be back.”

“Pie?” Evan looked wistful.  “You’ve got pie?”

“Aye.  Apple and cherry,”  Hannah grabbed his arm, “so don’t just stand there drooling, come on and help me carry them!”

“See you in a few!” Evan waved, and they were off.

As the little family reached their house, father and daughter were lost in their own thoughts.

Ben was speculating about the growing friendship between Rhian and Evan, and…

…Rhian was speculating about the growing friendship between her Da and Hannah.

 

***************

**City of Dale, 4 th of November 2942 T.A.**

 “Ha!  Ha ha. HA!” 

This evening the Royal Family were sitting on the couches in the Lounge relaxing after a hard day’s work.  Rhian and Darryn were visiting that evening, and while he was crawling on the rug with his blankie and stuffed toys, she was sitting with Hilda learning how to make socks.

“See?  The pattern is really the same, whether you make them for your Da, or Darryn, love.  Once you figure out how many stitches will go around their feet, you set half of them aside to turn the heel…”

“Oh; that’s so easy!”

“Of course, it is, it just looks hard.”  Hilda told her.

“Ha!  HA!  HA!”  the voice could be heard from the Corridor again.

Bard looked up from his book.  “What is Tilda doing out there?”

“Don’t ask me,” Sigrid shrugged, as she sat on the floor and played with the baby.  “She’s been acting strange for the last couple of days.”

“So, what else is new?” Bain rolled his eyes.

“Be nice, you,” Hilda gave the boy a look. 

“It’s true, Auntie Hil!  She’s been walking around smiling, _all the bloody time!_ And I don’t mean a smile-smile, I mean these bizarre, teethy grins!  She tries to talk like that, and I can’t understand what she’s saying!  Didn’t you notice it at mealtimes?  She hardly keeps her food in her mouth because she’s trying to smile while she’s chewing!”

 Sigrid giggled. “It’s really creepy Da.” 

~o0o~

 

> To be honest, Bard hadn’t noticed.  He’d been busy with his Kinging duties, of course, and all the adults had been preoccupied with the Harad children in Erebor.  The children didn’t know much about it, but the mood among many at the Castle was somber, as they still struggled to get their heads around such…  well, no one could come up with words that could adequately describe it.
> 
> Bard was a bit worried about his Elf, too.
> 
> For the past week, Thranduil would leave in the mornings, after walking Tilda to school, then arrive home late at night and fall into bed, with an exhausted sigh.  He’d been offering what help he could provide to help the Healers mend injuries that none should inflict upon any child.  The Elvenking tried hard not to bring it home with him, as he entered his family quarters, and refused to speak of it in the Royal bedchamber.  Bard had been spending the last few nights holding his Elf and speaking of happy, trivial things as he stroked his hair and tried to get him to relax, so they could both get some rest.
> 
> ~o0o~

Bard put his book down and went to the doorway, crossed his arms, and observed his youngest daughter for several minutes, as Tilda  paced up and down the corridor in deep concentration, with a grin plastered across her face.  Occasionally, she’d stop and throw her head back and a laugh would escape her.

“HA!  Ha ha ha!”

“Hey, Beanie…”

Tilda lowered her head and turned to face him.  “Hi, Da.”

“Um…   Can you tell me what you’re doing here?  What’s all this?”

“I’m making my heart cheerful.” She said, showing all her teeth, which proved Sigrid right: it did look disturbing.

He went over to her and looked down at her with his hands on his hips.  “Is there a reason for all this?”

“If I’m happy, I’ll get better, and if I’m REALLY happy, I’ll get better faster!”

Bard covered his mouth just in time to hide his smile.  “Did your teacher tell you this?”

“No.”

“Who did, Little Bean?” 

“The Lady told me.”

“Lady who?”

“Galaridel.”

Bard thought for a second.  “Galadriel?”

This time Tilda’s smile was genuine, as she nodded.

“Does this have anything to do with that ‘secret letter’ you sent her?”

“Uh huh!  I’m doing what she says so I can get better.  Then I won’t have to take naps all the time, and I can run around and not get tired.”

“I didn’t know the Lady wrote you back.”

“Uncle Percy gave it to me when the mail came.  Here; I’ll show you!”

She took him by the hand and dragged him into her room.   After he was seated on the bed, she opened the top drawer of her dresser and took out an envelope bearing the Lady’s Seal in golden wax.  “Here, see?”

Bard looked down at the flowing script of the Lady of Light, and read the passage that Tilda was pointing to: 

 

> “’ _I would like to help you with your request, my dear, but I am afraid I cannot.  I am told your Healer is very skilled, and you must trust her to know what is best for you._
> 
> _In the meantime, enjoy your family, and friends, and remember: laughter and a cheerful heart can do much to heal the body.’”_

 

"See, Da?" 

"Hmmmm…”  Bard handed the letter back to her.  “What exactly did you write in your letter, Tilda?”

The little girl had the grace to look sheepish.  “Well, I thought, if she could tell Daeron, and Daeron could tell _you and Ada_ …”

“What made you think she could do that?”  He put his arm around her.

“Because _Ada_ says she is really smart and _really_ powerful, Da!  I heard him say she’s even more powerfuller than he is!  So _…”_

Bard sighed.  “I see.  But she can’t make Daeron know if you are better enough to make your heart stronger, Beanie.”

“No, but don’t you get it, Da?  She said, _right there,”_ she pointed to her letter, “if I get happy and laugh a lot, it will fix me!  She’s really _really_ old, and she _knows things_ , Da.”

The King of Dale bit his lip.  “I think, love, she meant it would _help,_ not cure you.”

“You just _don’t understand_ ,” Tilda gave a melodramatic sigh.  “Teacher says she is the Princess of all Elves.  Her Da is a _really_ important King in Vandilor, so she knows stuff.”

“Valinor,” he corrected.

“Uh huh.  Nobody in the whole world is more powerfuller than her, right?  So, she –“

“Darling,” Bard gathered her into his lap.  “I know the Lady is powerful, and I’m sure if she could help, she honestly –“

Tilda’s face was full of such hope and confidence, he felt like a heel for trying to burst her bubble. 

“You know what?  Maybe there’s something to what she says, Beanie.” he kissed her forehead. “What I _do_ know for sure, is plastering a huge grin on your face all the time, doesn’t mean you’re happy in here,” he pointed to her heart.  “I think you’re working in the opposite direction, love.”

Tilda considered his words.  “So… for it to work, I have to bring it _out of me_ , not put it in?”

“Something like that.”

“But how do you know for sure?”

“Well, let me ask you this: do you feel happier?”

“I guess,” she said, then reached up to begin to rub her cheeks.  “But maybe not a lot, because my face hurts.”

“There’s your answer.”  Bard shrugged.  “It’s hard to feel happy when you’re in pain, isn’t it?”

She nodded.  “Well, how do I do it, then?”

“Tilda, do you remember what you and _Ada_ talked about when we rode to Erebor last summer?  He told you to find things to be grateful for every day, didn’t he?”

“I had to say three things that made me happy, and I remembered six.”

“I think that’s what Lady Galadriel might be talking about.  When you feel happier inside, your body works better.”

“Like when we brought all the kids from the Children’s Tent toys to play with?”

“You remember that?”

“Uh huh.  _Ada_ gave me the job to listen, because if they were happy, they wouldn’t get sick, so I had to listen to them and tell him and Auntie Hil what they said.”  Her face brightened.  “So, can I –“

“It does _not mean_ we should give you more toys.”  Bard told her firmly.  “Nice try, though.  Do you understand what Galadriel means, now?”

“I think so.  But I still want to try, okay?”

“That’s fine.  Just stop grinning while you talk, and especially when we’re eating dinner.  Your brother and sister can’t deal with it.”

“All right.”

Just then they heard Sigrid’s frantic voice, call from the Lounge.  “DA!  Tilda!  Come here, quick!”

 _Oh, shit…_ Bard grabbed Tilda and carried her down the hall.

 “What happened?” he asked.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Look!” She pointed to the middle of the room, where Rhian was sitting on the floor with her arms out…

…and little Darryn, with his fists waving in the air, and grinning from ear to ear, was taking his first steps toward his Mam, and looking pleased with himself.

 

That night, when a weary Thranduil crawled into bed, Bard opened his arms.  “Come here, love.”

The Elf let himself be gathered to his Bowman.  “It feels so good to be held by you, _Meleth nîn_.” 

began to relax for a minute or two, then said, “Bard?  I know we say, ‘no Kinging’ in here, but… all this weighs on my heart, and I do not want the children to hear...”

“I hereby decree an exception, just for tonight:  Talk away, if it makes you feel better.  How did things go today?”

Thranduil sighed.  “I am sorry to say that Elénaril’s predictions about the pregnant maids inflicted with disease proved correct.  She had been checking them every day, and the life signs had been getting weaker, one was lost two days ago and the other today.”

“They miscarried?”

“Yes, Ermon put them under a _losta-luith_ , so they would feel no pain, and repaired what damage he could.”

“That’s good, right?”

“It is.  But... it is so difficult.”

“You’re making a difference in their lives, love.  You need to remember that.  How are the kids getting along with the Elves?”

“Very well.  The children understand that we are incapable of the kinds of behavior that hurt them, so they are relaxing.”

~o0o~

 

> The day after the Remembrance Ceremony in Dale, a party of Elves from the Palace arrived, to begin making the children’s acquaintance, while Hilda, Rhian and some others prepared the building for them. In truth, they were moving into the Orphanage of Dale, which had stood empty.   At the moment, Dale had no orphans, thanks to the other residents and the Elves, but also because there were so few left, between the Laketown fires and the Battle.  When the construction began last winter, King Bard was thinking ahead and ordered Ben to draw up plans and get things started, at least.  The building’s skeleton had long been finished, for the most part, it was just a matter of the interiors and plumbing. 
> 
> Despite Bard’s desire that no one know the nature of the work the children had been forced into, word got around that a bunch of children had been rescued, and soon there was a line of volunteers outside Ben’s office wanting to help get the place ready.  Blankets, towels clothing, toys and other things had been dropped off, along with volunteers to paint the walls in the cheerful color schemes common to houses in Harad.
> 
> ~o0o~

 “I’m glad Indis could come,” Bard kissed Thranduil’s head.   Turamarth is thrilled to have his mom in town, though I’m kind of surprised his father doesn’t have a problem with it.”

“Why would he?  He is military, and understands that separations are sometimes necessary.  She has served the Woodland Realm for many years as a Counselor, and she must go where she is needed.  Her job is very important.”

“You’re right; I should know better.”

“It was Mírelen who noticed her gifts and convinced me that some Healers are not meant to treat a physical body, and that _fëas_ sometimes need treatment.  She has helped many of our people who came back from the War, or suffered at the hands of the spiders, or struggle with the darkness of our forest.”

“I think I’ll try to find someone like that for Dale.”  Bard then wondered.  “Will Hannah be helping Indis?”

“In a limited capacity.  Hannah’s priority are her patients here, and many are pregnant.  Rhian continues on the sidelines, but she is trying to be gentle with herself.   The children feel more comfortable with the Elves, anyway.”

“What about Adila? Will she run the orphanage?”

“No.  She is not trained for such intense emotional work, and to ask it of her would be inappropriate.   Indis will be in charge, and Adila will interpret for the children, and consult with the staff on cultures and traditions in Harad.”

“Are they _that_ different from us?” Bard asked. 

“The Haradhrim value many of the same things we do, Bard:  family, work, art, and devotion to the Valar, only they have different names for them, like the Dwarves do.  The Haradhrim are a highly patriarchal society, and the roles of men and women are much more rigid and defined in their society.  I have not asked Adila what their King might think of our own marriage, or if it might cause problems.”

“Why not?”

“King Abdullon’s approval or disapproval means nothing to me, except in light of seeing these children returned safely.  I am given to understand that they take the protection of their women and children seriously.  Only the extremists of their faith become abusive and oppressive, she assures me.”

Bard rolled his eyes in disgust.  “That’s true everywhere, isn’t it?  Zealots are the bane of our existence…  I don’t care what the religion is, none of that shit goes on in my Kingdom,” Bard said, then yawned.  “I’m sorry, love, it’s been a long day.”

“For me as well.”

“Enough sad talk.  You need to smile, and I’ve got just the thing.  Two things, actually.”

“Such as?”

“First thing is, Rhian brought Darryn over, and he took his first steps.  He’s not a baby anymore.”

“That is good news.  What is the second thing?”

“Are you aware that _your_ daughter sent a note to Galadriel?  And that she wrote back?”

“What?  When did she do this?”

“She asked me to put it in with my letter, and told me it was a secret.  But you’ve got to hear what she’s been up to, love…”

As Thranduil relaxed against his husband, Bard shared his earlier conversation with Tilda, making them both laugh.

“That is funny,” the Elf snickered.

“Well, just humor her when you see her grinning like a lunatic.  She’s pretty determined to make it work.”

Once Thranduil finished laughing, he heaved a few deep sighs, sank into the warmth of his Bowman a little more, and enjoyed the first restful sleep he’d had in days.

 

***************

 

**City of Landorian (78 miles Southwest of Dorwinian), 18 th of November 2942 T.A.**

The Boss sat back in on his couch with a grin, surrounded by three beautiful women whose sole purpose for existing was to pamper, pet him, hang on his every word, to convince him he was omnipotent, invincible. 

They were good in the sack, by themselves, or all three together, or if he felt like watching, they would do that too.   He didn’t know anything about them, or even their names, and he didn’t care.  It was business.  _They_ were business, a commodity that could easily be replenished and replaced, if necessary.  All he had to do was send a message, along with a little gold, to one of his traders in the Southeast of Rhún, and wagons of his product would be taken to his many ‘warehouses’ located as far south as Gondor.

In the last few years, he began dealing in the young ones, and it was making him richer than he had ever dreamed.   Customers would pay double, _even triple_ for a couple of hours with them.  Workers who were not cooperative, or even resisted in any way, were made an example of to the others, to keep them in line.  It was the only way to do good business, wasn’t it?  Discipline was needed to keep his large operation running smoothly, not to mention the greased palms of some well-placed politicians.

Of course, he needed to keep a tight rein on his investments, so he made sure that not only his staff was well-paid, but the spies he sent to keep an eye on them even better-paid.

“Boss?”

It was Harry, one of the trusted employees and head of his Security.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Three of the men from the Iron Hills business showed up at the front door.  Say they need to speak to you, sir.” 

The Boss sighed, snapped his fingers and motioned for the girls to leave.  “Bring them in.”

He stood up and walked across the large room to take his seat in the high-backed chair behind the desk.

In a few minutes, three thin, bedraggled men, were brought before him.  Iron Hills…   That was Attar’s business, wasn’t it?  Where in Mordor was he?

“Thank you for seeing us, sir!  Thank you!”  one of them groveled.

“Who the fuck are you?  And where is Attar?”

“He’s dead, sir.  I’m Trip, this is Dragan, and the other one is Darryl.  We worked at the Pleasure house in the Duston, Southwest of the Iron Mountains –“

I know where you’re from.” The Boss scowled.  “You think I don’t know that?”

“Oh, no!  No sir!  It’s just that we don’t control Duston anymore, sir.  They drove us out and shut down the Houses…”

“Who are ‘they?’  What the fuck happened?”

“These Dwarves came through the town, you see, a whole bunch of them.   Which is fine, I guess they do that a lot, and they left after a night, so we’d thought we’d seen the last of them.   Then a week later, a swarm of ‘em came barreling into town and killed most of us, though we got away…”

“Where is my product, Trip?  Where are they?”

That’s just it, sir,” the man looked at the floor, sheepishly.  “I don’t know.   They chased us off after we…”

“We were surrounded, and they already killed Attar all his men except us…”

“What did you tell them?”  The Boss demanded.  

“Nothing!  I swear!  Nothing!”

“I will ask again, what happened to my product?”

All three men were silent for a moment, until Darryl spoke up reluctantly.  “I think I saw them loaded onto the Dwarf’s wagons, sir.”

“So…  These Dwarves stole my property, and you _let them?”_

“We had no weapons, and it was only three of us against fifty of them, sir!”

The Boss stood up from his chair and pounded his hands on the desk.  “What I would have done was to burn down those fucking houses and destroy the evidence!  Those kids can’t talk if their dead, you stupid arseholes!”

Two of the men fell to their knees and begged for mercy, and the other froze in terror, and a dark stain began to show in the front of his leggings. 

“Please…   Please…  We didn’t know where else to go…”

The Boss stood up straight and studied them.  “Get up.”

His men came forward and forced the two to stand. 

“Get their hats off.”

The hats were removed, to reveal wounds where most of their left ears had been.

The Boss sighed.  “Now off with your gloves.”

All three wore brands on the back of their right hands.

The Boss sighed and walked around his desk, and came close.  He met Harry’s gaze and have a slight nod to his head, and his men stepped forward.

“Tell me: what made you think to come here?”

“Attar, sir!  He always said, if anything happened, and we needed help, we were to come straight to you.”

“He said that?”

“He did, sir.  Honest!  He said you’d look after us!”

The Boss tsked several times.  “Ah, now, I wish you hadn’t said that.” He sighed and shook his head.  “You _almost_ had me feeling sorry for you, didn’t you?” He shrugged casually.  “You see, I _know_ your lying.” He smiled and spread his hands in a friendly gesture.  “Attar would _never_ tell you something like that, because he knows that it would lead the authorities straight to _me._   He knew I’d kill him and his family.”  He tilted his head at Trip. 

“oh…”

“And with those lopped off ears, you attracted all kinds of attention… You three stick out like sore thumbs, so…  I can’t have you seen, can I?”

“But –“

Trip never had a chance to finish his sentence, because at a nod from The Boss, his men came up behind them and snapped their necks.

“Get rid of this mess,” he ordered. “And find out what happened to my property!”

 

**************

 

**From the Kings of the North to the King of Harad:**

 

> _Greetings to His Illustrious Majesty, King Abdullon IV, Ruler of Harad and Khand:_
> 
> _We humbly beg your indulgence to allow us to bring what I hope will be good news to you and some of your people._
> 
> _Two weeks past, a group of children were rescued from Duston, a village near the Iron Hills, who tell us they were kidnapped from their homes in Tahir, some fifty miles Southeast of the Sea of Rhún._
> 
> _We are happy to report we have dispensed with their captors and the children have brought here to the Northern Kingdoms, where they are receiving the finest medical care available._
> 
> _Sadly, they were forced into slavery of a most unfortunate kind, but their wounds and distresses are now under the care of some of the finest Elven Healers in Middle Earth._
> 
> _These children, twenty-seven in all, are now living in a safe place in our Capitol City and are officially under the protection the three Kings of the North, until they can be returned to you._
> 
> _The box our messengers have brought you, contains as much information we could gather from each child, and of the other children who were kidnapped at the same time, but did not survive._
> 
> _Adila, daughter of Nilo, is one of the citizens of our City and has been eager to be of assistance and has told us much about your beautiful country.  She has been kind enough to translate the information we sent as well as this letter, into Haradish script to aid the efforts to help reunite you with these children._
> 
> _It is our sad duty to give you further news:  It seems the village of Duston was only part of a larger network of slave trading, and all the Kings of the North and their Allies have committed to seeking out such establishments and destroying those who would commit such heinous acts, especially against children.  We believe in the rights of all Free Peoples of Middle Earth and will make every effort to prevent such exploitation._
> 
> _As a gesture of goodwill, and to expedite communications over such a long distance, please allow us to offer His Majesty, these birds: two Ravens, two falcons and four pigeons.   All have been trained by the Elves of the North to carry messages between your land and Dale, the Capitol City of the North. We have also enclosed in correspondence several sheets of light, thin paper, for that purpose, and we eagerly await your response._
> 
> _May the Valar protect us all, and help our efforts to obtain justice for these children._
> 
> _With our very highest regards,_
> 
> _Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale,_
> 
> _Dáin II Ironfoot, King Under the Mountain,_
> 
> _Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Woodland Ream_

 

ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:

 _Adanneth_ – Young man

 _Mellon nîn_ – My Friend


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Harad children seem to be doing well, but there are questions that need to be settled.
> 
> Poor Hilda is running herself ragged, so Percy and the Kings find her an Aide of her own.
> 
> Now that Evan and Rhian have been “stepping out,” a few of her friends decide to have a bit of a chat…
> 
> And Letters from Dale (with good news and not-so-good news…)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING***    Mentions of miscarriage and teen pregnancy.

 

 

 

“My heart only ever had one thought, one want. One need. Despite all, in spite of all...

All my heart has ever wanted is you.”

― **Stephanie Laurens, The Edge of Desire**

 

 

**City of Dale, 8 th of November 2942 T.A.**

The Elven Healers had done a remarkable job with the Haradhrim children at Erebor, and they were all feeling much better.  Indis and her staff arrived several days earlier, and went straight to Lonely Mountain, to stay with them, and ease their transition to Dale.

The King of Dale requested a meeting with all the Elves, Dwarves and Men involved in the care of these children, in the newly-completed Orphanage.

Adila and Hilda led the large group through the rooms, pointing out the snug beds, the bright walls, and cheerful curtains hanging in the windows.  The tailors and seamstresses of Dale and the Woodland Realm had worked quickly to provide the children with plenty of adequate, warm clothing, as these kids wouldn’t be used to winters in the North.   Their classroom was set up and ready with supplies, along with several books on loan from Thranduil’s library..  Everyone was impressed, and gave Hilda and Ben (who coordinated the construction) their due credit, and especially saluted Adila, whose knowledge in this matter was invaluable.

In the Common Room, they gathered around the tables that had been set up, and Bard called the meeting to order.  They discussed all aspects of their care, both in Erebor and in Dale, and Indis gave her report as to the children’s condition and her plans for treatment once they arrive in the City of Bells. 

It was decided that Elven Guards would be appointed, as a visible sign to the children that, though they will be living among Men again, no one would harm them.  In addition, several dogs would be purchased out of the Widows and Orphans budget to live in the Orphanage with them, for therapeutic reasons and added security.

But what to do, if anything, about the other girls who fell pregnant?

Bard took a deep breath, and began to tackle it.  “This is an issue that can cause tension and even arguments in some societies of Middle Earth, so I think it’s important that we all come to a common agreement, or the discord could affect the children’s recovery.   We all agree, they’ve been hurt enough, so will these girls suffer emotionally from it?  And we must think of the unborn children, too.  What will become of _them,_ if their mothers are too young to raise them?  Do we adopt them?  There are some societies in Middle Earth who question whether these girls should give birth in the first place, and prescribe herbs to end the pregnancy.  Do you see what I mean?”

The room became very quiet.

 “Before we get to the moral questions, let’s address the first issue of physical health, please.  Ermon?”

The Chief Healer of the Woodland Realm stood and addressed the room. “It is true that the original assessment of the children was grim, but we have put forth considerable effort, and have restored all of them to good health.  The girls who miscarried did so while sleeping, and they were completely healed, before they woke up. 

“It is also true that there was much concern expressed for the girls, and different ideas as to what should be done.  Mistress Hannah was correct, when she said that someone so young could be seriously injured or die should she give birth”

The Healer addressed the Dwarves.  “Lieutenant Daeron, who is currently working in Lothlórien, spent two hundred years working in Old Dale, before the Dragon came, and is one of the most gifted _Nestennin –_ that is our term for midwife - to use the Westron word - in Middle Earth.  He has presided over more human births than any Elf alive, and he has left thorough and specific notes on how this can be accomplished.  Should these girls be able to carry their infants to term, it can be done painlessly, and with no distress.” 

“How, exactly?” Hannah was concerned.

“In each case, he used Elven magic to help their bodies adjust.  Then, all these babies were delivered through an incision in the abdomen, and that their wounds were _completely_ healed before the patients woke up.  In short, they went to sleep in no pain, and woke up in no pain.”

“Thank you, Ermon.” Bard thanked the Healer, as he sat down.  “Now, let’s talk about the emotional risks to these girls.” 

Bard leaned forward and folded his hands. “I spent _days_ agonizing over all this, as I’m sure you have, until I realized the solution wasn’t really within my power to decide.”

“What do you mean?” Queen Dilna asked.

“It doesn’t matter what _any_ _of us_ think.” Bard’s hand swept around the room.  “These children are Haradhrim, and as their guardians, it is _our obligation_ to learn and respect the customs of _their_ land, not ours.  Whatever our opinions or beliefs, we don’t have the right to impose them on these kids, do we?  In fact, if we try, we could not only cause discord among ourselves, which could affect the children, and it could cause them difficulty, when they are returned. 

“There’s a lot at stake here, and it’s no secret relations between the Far East and the Western lands have not been good.  Sauron has worked hard to seduce those lands into believing that we are their Enemy!  If we bend over backward to prove to them we’re not, it could help us in future… events.”

Though Bard didn’t mention the future War to come, almost everyone in the room was thinking of it, and saw the sense in his words.

“You’ve got a point, Lad,” Queen Dilna nodded, “What do we do?”

 “To that end, I’ve asked Adila to speak, and hopefully, it will settle the matter once and for all.”

Bard turned to Adila. “How will these girls will be treated, when they are returned to their families?  And what will become of the babies?”

“That’s what I’m worried about, too” Hilda said, and by the nods of everyone around the room, many had the same concerns.  “These kids have been through enough!”

 Adila stood, and graciously bowed her head.  “My Lords, My Ladies: It is important to understand what family means to the Haradhrim.   There is a word we use, ‘ _Gosa,’_ which means ‘more than family.’  A typical Harad _Gosa_ is large and extended, with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and many children who grow up like brothers and sisters, rather than cousins.  We also ‘adopt’ others who would otherwise be alone.” She turned to the Dwarves.  “I believe in your culture, you call them ‘Clans?’”

“Aye, that we do,” Dís said. 

 Adila smiled at her.  “There is a saying about what it means to be part of a _Gosa_ : ‘One is cut, all bleed.’”

“So…  what were to happen if an unmarried girl in a - what do you call it?  _Gosa?_ \- were to fall pregnant?” Hilda asked.  “What about the family honor?”

“Honor, to the Harad, is _not_ based on how we or our family adheres to social rules, but how we love our family, how we care for each other, how we respect and revere our elderly, or give affection to our children.  To neglect _any_ of these, is to dishonor ourselves, our _Gosa,_ and the _Varinēri_ – our word for the Valar.  If we are diligent about those things, much trouble is prevented.   

“Every _Gosa_ has a Leader, or as we call them, a _Rasi_ _,_ who serves as our spiritual guide, as well as settles any dispute that may arise.  If a _Rasi_ cannot settle the matter, then he or she will bring them to the King, to decide their fate.  But more important than obedience, it is the _Rasi’s_ job to encourage a culture of love and respect in his _Gosa_ , for to do otherwise, brings great shame.”

“I’m sorry, but we’ve got to be sure about this, Adila.” Bard asked a more direct question.  “What will happen to these girls when they return with their babies?  I think we’re all afraid they might be shamed, or the babies might be seen as ‘lesser’ because they would only be half-Haradhrim.  Do you understand our concern?”

 “It would not occur to these pregnant mothers, or to any member of their _Gosa_ to see them or their babies as ‘soiled,’ or ‘unclean’ in any way.  We are taught every child is sent from _Vaka,_ Queen of Stars.  The Elves refer to her as…” she looked at Thranduil.

“We call her Elbereth, Mistress.”  The Elvenking offered.

“Thank you, My Lord.”  She smiled and continued.  “All children belong _Īru Īlivitari,_ according to our beliefs; we are only given loan to them, and charged with raising them well, so they can fulfill their purpose in this life.”

“What about the fact that these children are so young?” Hilda was anxious.  “They’re not equipped to be mothers!”

“I do understand your concerns, Lady Hilda.   It is not uncommon for an older aunt or grandmother to carry out most of the responsibility, with the help and support of the rest of the _Gosa_ , to allow the girl to be free to grow.  No child brought into our families are _ever_ treated as ‘wrong,’ because to do so would dishonor not only the child, but the entire _Gosa_ , and would displease the _Varinēri,_ and _Īru_ himself.

“I must stress this, because, to do otherwise would damage the very foundations of their faith, which is already precarious, because of what they’ve been forced to endure.”

“I agree,” Indis seconded. 

Hilda sat back and shook her head in wonder.  “I think we all could learn a lot from your people, Adila.  Thanks; I feel a lot better.”

The King of Dale nodded his head.  “Mistress Adila, I can’t thank you enough for all your help.  Those kids owe you a lot.”

He looked around the room and stood up. “Right; now we know what we’ll do, then.  Thank you everyone for coming.”

 

*******************

 

 _Everyone_ had begun to worry about Hilda, lately. 

As usual, she worked from morning till night, but she’d begun to look tired, and there were dark circles under her eyes.  Percy had had enough of his wife looking like the Undead, and dragged her, kicking and screaming to see Ermon, who ordered bedrest for three days, and to cut back on her hours.   He also ordered that she get an Assistant. 

As soon as he brought her back from the Healing House, both Kings and the Senior Staff of the Castle were anxious to find out what could be done.

“She can’t do all this alone anymore, Bard.  I’m not risking my wife’s health,” he gave Hilda a pointed look, “no matter _how_ _stubborn she is.”_

“I’m fine, I tell you –“  Hilda protested

“Hush, wife.  You’re going to follow Ermon’s advice to the letter, or I’m dragging you off to the Palace, throw you in the hot springs and keep you there for a month!  I mean it, Hil!  Enough is enough!”

“It’s just that I’ve got a particular way of organizing things, and if that person doesn’t understand how I do it, it’ll just make more work for me!”

“You mean, those piles of papers in your study?” Percy jabbed.  “It’s a mess, love.”

“I know _exactly what’s in that mess!”_ she became indignant.

“I’m sure you do,” Bard said, gently, “but suppose something happened to you, and we needed to get our hands on it?   I don’t have time to rifle through stacks of documents, Hil, and neither does Percy. We’re buried with our own work, as it is.”

“I have a suggestion, if you would permit me,” Thranduil interjected.  “There is someone who would be perfect for the job.”

“Who?”

“Rhian.  Since her education began at the Palace, she has proven to be very intelligent and organized.  As your close friend, she also has a basic understanding of your responsibilities.  I do not think you will find anyone better.”

“And she’s used to you,” Percy added, helpfully.

“‘Used to me?’  What in blazes does that mean?” Hilda snapped at her husband.  “No one needs to get ‘used to me!’ I –“

Percy pointed to his wife, with a grin.  “See what I mean?  You _can be scary,_ sometimes, but Rhian doesn’t take it personally.”

“I am not scary!”

“Oh no?”  Percy raised his eyebrows and pointed to the Kings.  “Just who was it then, who gave these two an earful, last May when they wouldn’t cooperate with Ermon?  Hmmm?”

“I never saw Thranduil so cowed,” Bard chuckled.

“What about you?” The Elvenking retorted.  “Did you not have to wear your cast an extra day, because of your temper?”

 _“Boys!_   That’s enough!”

Galion started to laugh.  “I believe you have made your point, Percy.”

“Fine,” She rolled her eyes and threw up her hands.  “But what about Darryn?”

“We could arrange for a caretaker, even if she could only work part of the day.”  Thranduil asked Bard.  “Did not your Mattie teach while your children were young?”

“Aye.  Hilda helped out, and another mother kept them, too.”  Bard nodded.  “If it’s all right with you, Hil, let’s send for her and see what she says, yeah?”

Hilda sighed.  “But –“

“Wonderful!”  Percy cut her off before she could get going.  “We’ll get her over here now!”  And before she could say a word, got up to send a Guard to fetch her.

 

A short time later, Rhian, who was a bit nervous at being summoned, was escorted into the Conference room.  “Is something wrong, My Lord?”

“Not a thing.  Where’s Darryn?”

“Anna has him.  We were taking the babies for a walk, when Ivran gave me the message.” She looked around the room.

Bard began, “Well, we’ve got a bit of a situation and I’m hoping –“

 _“We’re_ hoping,” Percy gave Hilda a firm look.

“- we’re hoping you can help us out.  You see, Hilda needs an Aide, and we think you’re the one for the job.”

 _“Me_ , My Lord?”  Rhian’s eyes grew wide.  “Why me?”

“Because your Da brags to the nines how brilliant you are, and we’ve noticed it, too.  He also says how your house is neat as a pin, and he never has to search for things.  You’re organized, and you have a real eye for details, which is what she needs.  Dale grows every day, and Hilda’s duties are growing with it.”

Percy turned to his wife.  “Go ahead, tell her what all you do, love.”

Hilda took a deep breath, then began.  “Well, first of all, I’m in charge of the staff here at the Castle, making sure the cleaning is done, the laundry is kept up, the sewing, _and the_ _mending,”_ she gave Bard and Thranduil a withering look.

At that, both Kings’ faces turned beet red.  Bard jabbed Thranduil with his elbow. “Told you to quit ripping my drawers off,” he whispered.

“Shh!” Thranduil hissed.

“Anyway,” Hilda continued.  “Cook is in charge of everything in the kitchen, but I make out the menu and see to it that he has the supplies he needs.  I also organize the help for banquets and all the cleanup. 

“Mistress Bronwyn is in charge of the school system here, but I oversee that, and meet with her once a month, to make sure she or the buildings get what they need.  She and I vet the teachers and go over the curriculum, and lets me know how the kids are doing.   When the time comes, I need to recruit teachers willing to come here to educate them in other cultures, and teach languages.

“I meet with Alun a lot, to go over the budgets for the running of the Castle, which isn’t much right now, but when we start restoring it, the salaries for the staff and maintenance are going to go way up.  He and I work out budgets for just about everything that has to do with public property in the City.

“I’m also in charge of the Parks – not the children’s play equipment, mind you; that’s Ben’s job - but I need to plan all the Gardens, along with the flower beds around the street lamps, the Bell Towers, the Fountains, and the Monuments and Cemetery.

“I’m in charge of diplomatic visits, and make sure _everyone_ knows the protocol involved, and keeping all the ceremonies running smoothly.  For example, before our visit to Erebor, Balin and Ori came here to set things up, and Galion and I went there, to smooth over any snafus or possible problems.

“Then there’s the Widows and Orphans.  We’ve got plenty of widows right now, though no orphans, thanks to the Elves and others.  But I need to keep up with all those Mams who don’t have husbands, and make sure they and the kids have what they need.  And now, we’ve got those poor kids at Erebor!  They’ll be coming here soon, and the budget for running the Orphanage is mostly donations from the Dale folk, because the Widows and Orphans fund needs to be kept for our people.  So, I’m in charge of recruiting supplies, monies and whatever else.”

Hilda sat back with a sigh.  Well, that’s about it.  Can you think of anything else?  Percy?  Bard?”

The room was shocked into silence, as everyone stared at her with their mouths open.

 _“Ulmo’s balls, woman!”_ Percy said with awe in his voice. “No wonder you’re so tired!”

 _“Elo…”_ Galion shook his head.

Bard muttered.  “You do _all that?_   Bloody f- “

 _“Language!”_  Hilda rebuked him, then sighed at Rhian.  “I’m also in charge of making sure ‘Royal decorum,’ is observed, and all these boys behave themselves!”

“This is true,” Thranduil grinned.  “Bard and I have our Aides, and we need them, Rhian, but it is past time we give the ‘Mother of Dale’ some help of her own.”

“So…”  Bard asked her.  “Will you do it?

“That sounds wonderful, to be honest,” Rhian told them.  “I love Darryn, I really do, but I’ve been feeling at loose ends, lately.  Everything in the house was put in order ages ago, and I can’t do anything with the garden until spring, I still like to read a lot, but, I’ve got time on my hands…”

“See?” Percy jabbed Hilda.

 “- and Da’s hardly home, he’s so busy –“

“You can eat your lunches or dinners from our Kitchens on days you work.” Hilda interjected.  “That would save you having to prepare meals after you get home.”

“- and I’d need someone to watch Darryn –“

“We can help you find a caretaker.  Maybe Anna is looking to make some extra money…” Thranduil suggested.

“Which we would pay for, of course,” Bard added.  “Sigrid would love to help after classes, and you know Thranduil likes to get his paws on the boy every chance he gets…”

“This is true,” Thranduil agreed. “If need be, we could set up his playpen here in the Lounge.”

“I still visit with Hannah, every few weeks; would I be allowed to still do that?” Rhian asked, shyly.

 “You must _absolutely_ keep up with that.”  Bard answered her for everyone.  “And as far as I can see, Hilda will be dealing with people and crowds, so you won’t have to do anything like that unless you’re ready.”

“He’s right, love.” Hilda assured her.   “I’m out a lot, so I need someone to organize my life, and get all the paperwork done.  You’d be here most of the time dealing with schedules, lists, taking notes at meetings, and writing letters for me to sign.  I hate to admit it, but it _is_ a mess in there,” she nodded her head in the direction of her study. “I just haven’t had time to clean it up, and it’s all gotten away from me.”

“And if you have any problems or worries, you just let one of us know, and we’ll help you.”  Percy promised.

“All right,” Rhian accepted with a shy smile.  “I think I’d like to try.”

It was settled, Anna took care of Darryn every afternoon, and Rhian was set up Hilda’s study with her own desk, began making sense of the piles of work that needed to be done.

 

Within weeks, everyone in the Corridor became used to hearing Hilda ask, “Rhian, where am I going now?” or, “Rhian, can I do that today?” 

And they smiled, when they heard things like, “No, you can’t do that today, Hilda.  You meet with Ermon in twenty minutes, then you need to go inspect the school, but don’t stay for more than one hour, because Cook wants to see you right after the midday meal, and don’t forget to drop of the list for the Baker on your way to the Healing House…”

At first Hilda found it unsettling to be handed things she needed before she even thought to ask, or given answers to questions that had barely popped into her own mind.  But she learned to love it soon enough.

“I don’t know how I got on without you, love!”  She told her Aide one day. “I don’t know how I did it!”

Everyone living in the Corridor breathed a sigh of relief, because when Hilda wasn’t happy, _nobody_ was happy.

 

***************

 

Now that Rhian was working in the Castle, she and Evan saw a great deal of each other, and their growing friendship was apparent to everyone working in both Corridors behind the Great Hall. 

Ben, of course was fine with it, and so was Alun, who liked the young man a lot.  In fact, everyone liked Evan…

…but there were a few that felt a “discussion” was in order.

 

Evan was looking at the papers in his hand, as he left his study with his coat on arm.  He was due to meet with Mistress Bronwyn and gather information regarding the schools’ financial needs.

“Evan!” Bard smiled, as he Percy came out of their study.  “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Good morning, My Lord,” the man smiled back.  “Can I do something for you?”

“Not a thing.  Are you headed out?”

“Uh…  Yes.  I’ve got to see Mistress Br –“

“I see…  Why don’t we just walk you out, then?” Lord Bard’s smile was wide and friendly, but the hand on his shoulder felt firm, as Evan was steered through the doorway and into the Great Hall.

Suddenly, Evan found himself surrounded. There was Lord Bard walking on his left, King Thranduil to his right, and Percy and Turamarth had fallen into step beside them.

As the loud clatter of their boots echoed in the empty Hall, Evan felt a bit confused, and when they all stopped before the big double-doors, and stood before him in a semi-circle, he felt downright frightened.

“Um…  Have I done something wrong, My Lord?”

“What?  Oh no, no…nothing like that, lad,” Bard grinned.  “We,” he gestured to the others, “my friends and I, just wanted to have a little talk, that’s all.”

“Nice and friendly,” the Elvenking seconded.

“Just a chat,” Percy added.

Turamarth didn’t say anything; he just crossed his arms.

“You see, Evan,” Bard smiled serenely, and gripped his shoulder again. “You seem like a nice chap, and we like you a lot, we really do.  Don’t we fellas?”

“I like him.” Was Thranduil’s assessment.

“Lad’s got both oars in the water.” Percy agreed.  “Hil thinks he’s cute.”

Turamarth just stared.

The King of Dale squeezed his shoulder.  “Now, we wanted to have a little word, because we’ve noticed you’ve taken an interest in our friend, Rhian.  You’ve been spending time with her, haven’t you?”

“Well… yes, but,” he admitted.  “I asked Lord Ben’s permission...”

“Course you did, lad,” Bard nodded.  “See?  He asked Old Ben!  Isn’t that grand?  Because in Dale, a nice young man asks the father’s permission to come calling, and if you hadn’t, we would have found out about it, and we wouldn’t be pleased _at all...”_

“Very displeased,” Thranduil said.

 “Downright annoyed,” added Percy.

Turamarth growled.

“But My Lords, I _have_ asked Ben’s permission, and he approves, so,” Evan declared, feebly, “I’m at a loss why you all would be upset with me…”

“Upset? Who us? We’re not upset, Evan,” Bard said soothingly.  “Are you upset, Thranduil?”

“Absolutely not,” the Elvenking replied.  “Are you upset, Percy?”

“Nope,” Percy tilted his head, and turned to Turamarth. “You?”

“Hmmm…” 

“What we,” Bard’s hand swept around the semi-circle, “all of us, want _you_ to know is that we’re _very_ _fond_ of Rhian, you understand?”

“A sweet young woman,” said the Elvenking.

“Love her to bits,” was Percy’s comment. “She’s like a sister to Tur, isn’t that right?”

“Umm hmmm…”

The King of Dale continued, “Now, you’ve heard she’s been through a lot, right?”

“Y-yes…” Evan tried to appear calm.  “She told me some of it, and I was very sorry to hear about it...”

“So, you _know,_ that you must show her respect, and treat her with _great care…”_

“Extreme care,” the Elvenking looked pointedly at him.

“Like a delicate flower,” Percy told him, with a straight face.

Tur’s eyes narrowed.

 “Because…” Bard made a sad face, “if we found out Rhian was used, or disrespected, or hurt, or even unhappy in _any way,”_ he sighed, “then _we would_ get upset…”

“I would be angry,” Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

“Downright pissed off.”  Percy shook his head.  “Tur?” 

“No one would find your body.”

 “Please!” Evan held his hands up.  “Please, please, all of you!  I promise, my intentions with Rhian are completely honorable!  I’ve nothing but respect for her, and I’d never push her or pressure her into _anything_ she’s not ready for, all right?  We’re good friends, and –“

“Excellent!” Bard patted him on the back.  “So glad we had this little talk.” He sighed, “Whew! I feel much better, don’t you?”

“I am overjoyed,” said Thranduil.

“Feel like dancing, myself.” Percy deadpanned. 

“I shall let you live.” Turamarth told him.  “But I will be watching.”

“Good to know,” Evan said, not sure if the Guard was joking or not.  “I’m really sorry, but I need to get to the school; I’m late…”

“Of course, of course.  Sorry to hold you up.”  Bard said, as the Guards opened the door for him, and the group walked out with him on the dais.  “It’s getting nippy out there; make sure you button our coat, son.” 

“I will, thanks.  I’ll…er… just be going, then.”

The group waved him off.  “See you soon. Evan!”

Evan tentatively waved back at them.  It took a gargantuan effort not to break into a dead run, as he crossed the courtyard.

As soon as the Great Hall was out of sight, he ducked into an alley, and leaned against the wall, with his eyes closed.  “Holy buckets of goat shit…”  He mumbled. 

Then he shook his head, and felt sorry for _anyone_ in the future who might try to court the Princesses of Dale…

 

***************

**LETTERS FROM DALE**

 

 **To Daeron from Tilda:**  

 

> _Deer Daarron:_
> 
> _I am good.  It is colder heer, but Ada makes me wear a scarf and hat.  I walk to school, and see my freinds.  I like to read.  Miss Eryn says I need to spell Better.  Galyon says that to._
> 
> _Esta likes school.  She likes to run wit the other kids, but I cant.  Ruvyn is very nice.  He is my freind and holds my hand at the playgrond sometimes.  He takes me on the slide.  And he lets me on the swing too. Is that okay?  I love him._
> 
> _Da and Ada are buzy.  O!  Rhean works for Auntee Hil!  She helps her.  And theyr is a suprize but she says I cant tell._
> 
> _I miss you.  Tell the Lady I said hi.  She wrot me and is nice._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Tilda_

***************

 

**To Daeron from Turamarth:**

 

> _Suilad, cousin!_
> 
> _I do not know if you have heard, but my mother is living in Dale at the moment.  Lord Thranduil summoned her to work with a small group of  children rescued by the Dwarves  near the Iron Hills.  These children are from Harad, and all efforts are being made to restore them to good health, and to find their parents._
> 
> _It is wonderful to have Nana in town!  She is housed in the building orphanage, and many of us spend our spare time there, entertaining them, just as we did in the Children’s Tent last year._
> 
> _Rúmil and the Galadhrim are doing well.  They are going to stay at Erebor for a week, then back to the Woodland Realm for another tour._
> 
> _Lord Bain and his friend Rhys do well with their weapons training and now Bowen has joined them.  There is a genuine friendship growing between these three boys, and all adults involved approve.  Though he struggles, Bowen is a boy of good quality, and I foresee he will serve Dale well, and be a trustworthy friend to its future King.  Rúmil and I take all three boys out riding several times a week, and King Thranduil joins us when he can, to teach them how to track people, or different kinds of animals._
> 
> _I must close, as my shift begins in a few minutes.  Hope to hear from you soon, Gwador._
> 
> _Turamarth_
> 
> _P.S. Please write to me, as soon as you can.  _
> 
>  

***************

**To Daeron from Hannah:**

 

> _Hello, Daeron!_
> 
> _Though my days are full, it still seems to drag without my good friend and partner here, love.  I’ve been spending most of my days seeing patients at the Healing House – seems Lord Bard will be greeting lots of new subjects next year!  So far, all is well with the women of Dale, but…_
> 
> _…I don’t know how much any of them has told you about these refugees, but we’ve got some very young patients that Ermon and I will be helping, if you understand my meaning.  Earlier this week, Lord Bard met with all of us and the Adila, the Blacksmith’s wife - remember her?  We sat up all night with her daughter when she gave birth, remember?_
> 
> _Anyway, she’s from Harad and Lord Bard is making sure we respect their religion and beliefs, so that’s how we’re going to handle it.  I must say, I agree.  I’m also relieved, to be honest.  Our job now, is to let them be kids!  Oh, you should’ve seen them, when we first brought them to Dale!  They love their rooms and the women and Elves have set them up with plenty of warm clothes, and the older kids help cook in the kitchens._
> 
> _Just like last year in the Children’s Tent, the Elves come to visit when they’re off duty, and they are learning each other’s languages faster than you can shake a stick.  It’s wonderful._
> 
> _I see Rhian as a patient, every two weeks now, but otherwise she’s either at the Castle working (she’s an Aide to Hilda now) or when I see her out and about with her Da or Evan._
> 
> _There; I’ve said it._
> 
> _I don’t know how you’re going to take all this, and don’t be mad at Turamarth; he just didn’t know how to tell you, love, but we both wanted you to hear about this from someone who really cares about you, which you know I do.  Tur and I need to hear from you, and know that you’re all right!_
> 
> _Evan has completely honorable intentions (Lord Bard and some others put the fear of Mordor in him, to make sure), though I honestly don’t know if she’s interested in him back, or only sees him as a friend.  For now, they just seem to enjoy each other’s company. _
> 
> _I wish I could tell you what’s going to happen, love.  What I do know is that Rhian cares about you very much.  I know, because she still talks about you all the time! _
> 
> _Breathe in and out, like you always tell me.  Hope for the best, and trust that the Valar know and understand what you and I don’t.  That’s all any of us can do, yeah?_
> 
> _Please, PLEASE, look after yourself, my dear boy, and never forget how many people love you..._
> 
> _Hannah_

 

***************

 

**To Daeron from Indis:**

 

> _Suilad Gwathellion,_
> 
> _I am in Dale, at least until the spring, and though I am glad to be of service to these Harad children (which I am sure you have heard about) I keenly feel your absence here._
> 
> _Turamarth and I are often stopped on Market Days by many Dale folk, who want to speak of your kindness to them.  A woman named Shelagh proudly showed me her twin daughters, and had tears in her eyes when she said that she would not be alive if you had not rushed into her home and worked the miracle you did at their birth.   You are very much loved here, Daeron. And you know your family thinks of and prays for you daily, as we are all so proud, Gwathellion._
> 
> _Still, I know the inner workings of your heart, my dear nephew, and can only encourage you to not lose hope that you can find happiness._
> 
> _But for now, get up every morning, close your eyes, hold your face up to the sun, and breathe the sweet air of the Golden Wood.  Take a few moments every day to appreciate the beauty that surrounds you.  Serve the Lord and Lady and should she deem it wise to speak to you, trust her words, for there are few on Middle Earth wiser than she._
> 
> _I think of you by day, and offer prayers for you by night, and count the days until I see you again._
> 
> _Much love,_
> 
> _Aunt Indis_

 

***************

 

**To Daeron from Rhian:**

 

> _Oh, Daeron!_
> 
> _I hardly have any time to write, so this will be short.  I want to tell you two things:  First, Darryn is walking!  Our little boy walks now!  Oh, he is so proud of himself!_
> 
> _He can say, “Mama,” and he calls Ben “Dada” for Granddad, too!  You should see how his face lights up when Da walks in the room._
> 
> _The second thing is:  I’ve got a job!  I’m Hilda’s Aide at the Castle.  The poor dear was getting stubborn about doing all those things on her own, but Lord Percy insisted she get some help._
> 
> _It’s only three days a week, and while she’s off meeting with whoever, I spend my time getting her study in order and keeping her on a schedule and organizing all her lists and correspondence.  No one had any idea just how much the poor dear does around Dale!  Lord Bard was flabbergasted, and so was everybody else!_
> 
> _So far, it’s only been three weeks, but she seems to think I’m doing a good job, and I like it a lot.  I love being with Darryn, but sometimes it’s good to get out of the house and around grownups._
> 
> _The third thing is this:  I think my Da and Hannah really like each other, if you get my drift.  She’s come over some evenings for dinner and she and Da talk for hours!  Her husband died a long time ago, and her three sons are grown with their own families. Only one of them lives in Dale; the other two live near their wives’ families. I’ll keep you posted on that front, because I don’t think it could happen to two nicer people._
> 
> _Now for the fourth thing.  Do you remember Evan?  The man who works with Alun?  He and I have become good friends, and we’ve been spending some time together.  To be honest, my only other relationship like that was with Garth, so I’ve never had any of the normal ‘courting’ that other girls my age have had.  I have no idea where all this is going, but he’s so kind, and I really like him. Keep your fingers crossed!_
> 
> _Oh!  You’re going to love this!  It seems that King Bard, King Thranduil, Lord Percy and your cousin Turamarth cornered him in the Great Hall last week and put the fear of Mordor in him, to make sure he’s treating me right!  Can you believe it?  Da and I thought it was hilarious!  And I know if you’d been here, you’d be right there with them, making sure Evan treats me like a queen, wouldn’t you?_
> 
> _You’ve always been the best friend I could ever have, and I couldn’t ask for a better one.  Tur does his best to fill the void, but we both miss you sooooo much._
> 
> _Darryn does, too.  He still looks for you when I take him to the Castle to see Da, and now he jumps at Tur, because he looks so much like you!_
> 
> _Speaking of Darryn, did you get the package I sent?  Thranduil painted the picture of Darryn, so you could have it.  Did you see how his little face is changing? And look how much his hair has grown!  I know you’ll love it!_
> 
> _I’ve got to tell you the cutest thing:  When we were at the Castle, and Lord Thranduil was drawing Darryn, he also drew a picture of you!  Everyone was amazed at how well he captured your likeness, and he gave it to me, because he knows how much Darryn and I miss you.  _
> 
> _But you’ll never believe what Darryn said when I showed it to him!_
> 
> _I held it up to him and said, “See?  Here’s Daeron!”_
> 
> _And he pointed to it and said, “Ada!”  _
> 
> _I hung it up in his room and home and he points to it and says, “Ada!”_
> 
> _Isn’t that cute?  I don’t see why it would be strange, because you are more like his father than anyone else, and I’m proud he thinks of you as his father.  No matter what happens, Daeron, I’ll always consider Darryn “our son,” because you saved us both, and no man or Ellon could love him more._
> 
> _I’m sorry I can’t write more – I’m sitting at my desk and I’ve got to get to work!_
> 
> _Love from me and Darryn,_
> 
> _Rhian_

 

***************

 

**To Galadriel from Tilda:**

 

 

> _Deer Lady ~~Gaderl~~   Gallerdil:_
> 
> _I am not a good speller yet, but Miss Erin, my teecher says I have to pracktis more.  I have been doing wat you said and lauffing and smiling, but Da told me I cant try too hard.  HE sad to think about nice things._
> 
> _I have a good dog.  I love her.   I love my Ada.  He is nice and gives me hugs.  Da is grate too.  I love my big sister.  Her name is Sigrid and she is alot older than me, but she is nice to me alot.  My brother BAne can be a pain somtimes.  But I like him._
> 
> _Did I tell you aboot Auntie Hil?  She is nice.  She takes care of us and maks sure we behave and take a bath at night.  I love Uncle Galyaon too.  He gave me my own desk.  He helps take care of us to._
> 
> _Da says I can smile and bee happpy if I think of that, and it would help me get better.  He says my heart got week when I was sick.  I was ~~said~~ sad when I got sick becaase Ada and Da cried.  It made me feel bad. _
> 
> _But Ada saad thay cried becase they love me, and Da said that shood make me happy.  It gets confussing._
> 
> _Anyway.  How are you?  Do you have kids?  Pleese write back and tell me if you have kids, or if you have animals.  You are my firend._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Tilda._
> 
> _P.s.  Did I tell you that everrybody calls me Little Been?  You can call me it if you want._

 

***************

**To Daeron, from Elénaril:**

 

> _Suilad, Mellon:_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you well in the beautiful woods of Lothlórien!  I have never been, nor have I met the Lord and Lady, but Ermon has, on several occasions, and has many stories to tell of that magical land and the people who dwell there._
> 
> _I have thought a great deal about the Lady, and her courage in banishing much of the evil in our land last year.  In fact, I give thanks for her almost daily, and have written her to tell her so._
> 
> _Mellon nîn, I am anxious to give you the most joyous news -  Ermon and I are going to be parents!  And to our great delight, we are having twins – a boy and a girl!   After countless years, we had lost all hope of having a child of our own, and the joy I feel is indescribable, Daeron!  _
> 
> _They should arrive at the end of next September, which means my best pupil and good friend can preside over their birth, for I want no one else but you to see to the care and safety of our children._
> 
> _I do not have to ask if you are happy for me, for we have talked many times of my hopes and dreams..._
> 
> _I pray one day to meet the Lady of Light, to thank her for this blessing she made possible._
> 
> _Thank you, Mellon nîn for all your support, and please know I pray for you daily._
> 
> _With much affection,_
> 
> _Elenaril_

 

**To Celeborn from Thranduil:**

 

> _Suilad, my dear cousin:_
> 
> _Enclosed in this box are reports from my Commander, and from Rúmil himself, so I need not repeat them, except to say I am very pleased with their performance and interactions with my Elves, the people of Dale, and the Dwarves._
> 
> _As I write this, I have a particular concern for Lieutenant Daeron Adamarion, and I would ask if you and Galadriel could offer him some extra support at this time._
> 
> _I must respect Daeron’s privacy, but suffice to say he may be receiving news that will greatly upset him, and I do not wish to see him suffer alone.  By now, you and your wife have observed that not only is he highly gifted, but the nature of these gifts requires a sensitivity that must be protected, sometimes._
> 
> _To be frank, Celeborn, he can be prone to depression, much in the same way I suffered when my beloved wife was killed, and I do not want him to suffer needlessly, like I did._
> 
> _Daeron has always been special to me, not only has a gifted soldier, an exceptional Healer, but as a friend.  Please, cousin, look after him, as I would do if he were here._
> 
> _Please send my love to your wife, and I thank you both in advance for this favor._
> 
> _Fondest regards,_
> 
> _Thranduil_

 

 ***************

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Suilad -_ Greetings

 _Gwathellion_ \- Nephew (lit. "Sister-son")

 

 

**NOTES:**

The Harad words in this story are actually Amheric (an Ethiopian Semetic Language, which I swiped from Google Translate).  If I have any readers from that region, **_please_** forgive me for butchering it!

 _Gosa –_ a large extended family (“More than family”)

 _Nefisi –_ the Soul, which the Elves would call the _Fëa_.

 _Kewakibiti Nigišiti_ – Queen of Stars (Varda, Elbereth)

 _Varinēri_ – Valar

 _īru īlivatari_ – Eru Ilúvatar

 

\--The ‘Undead’ is mentioned in the Tolkien Legendarium:  “ **Undead**  were beings whom once had been alive (often [Men](http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Men)) but which had been bestowed with an unnaturally prolonged existence. All such creatures seem to have been associated with Evil.” 

<http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Undead>.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: While I understand and respect that the issue of unwanted pregnancy is passionately argued about in our world, my story reflects the traditions and attitudes of Middle Earth. Thank you. :-)


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Galadhrim are officially greeted by the King and Queen of the Lonely Mountain, and the Harad children are anxious to meet their benefactor - the King of Dale!  Will Bard live up to the hype?
> 
> King Dáin receives a message from his son, and shares his caution with Bard and Thranduil.
> 
> It is the one-year anniversary of the Battle of the Five Armies.  What is running through everyone’s minds as they think back on that day?
> 
> Haldir noticed his friend Daeron received some letters and a package, but it clearly was terrible news, and he’s worried…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for Bard's Blessing of the children is inspired by my friend, [The_Mighty_Bow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Mighty_Bow/pseuds/The_Mighty_Bow). and her wonderful story, [A Silver Star](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15342717/chapters/35600514). 
> 
> Thanks!

 

 

“To want and not to have, sent all up her body a hardness, a hollowness, a strain. And then to want and not to have- to want and want- how that wrung the heart, and wrung it again and again!”

**― Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse**

 

 

**Erebor, 14 th November 2942 T.A.**

The party from Dale reached the Great Doors of Erebor, which were opened wide, in anticipation of their arrival.  The King and Queen looked like toy soldiers against the dark, cavernous entrance to the Mountain, although to be honest, the King of Dale and his party didn’t look that much bigger.

Today, the group was accompanied by the Wardens of Lothlórien, who, for the first time in recorded history, would set foot inside the Lonely Mountain. 

“Greetings, King Bard and King Thranduil!”  The King and Queen Under the Mountain paid formal courtesy to their visitors, which of course was returned. 

Rúmil and Gerion, his Second-in-Command came forward and bowed low before the Royalty of Erebor.  After a short speech of appreciation for their hospitality, they presented the King Under the Mountain a letter of greeting from his Lord and Lady.  

Gerion bowed and presented them with a long, wooden chest containing an ornate Bow made from the famous wood of Lothlórien, shaped and sized to suit a Dwarven Archer.   Dáin seemed to approve of the gift, for he lifted it out of his case and ran his fingers reverently over the wood, noting the Rhunes in both Elvish and Dwarvish.   

For the Queen, there was a golden necklace of Mallorn leaves and Elanor, the Star Flower, the official symbols of the Golden Wood.  Both gifts were graciously accepted, and after a few formal words, everyone was escorted to their rooms to get settled before the formal ceremony and banquet tonight. 

Bard and Thranduil would stay overnight, and lead the escort for the refugees back to Dale in the morning, but the Feren, his senior staff, and the six Wardens would spend ten days in the Mountain, educating themselves on the customs and practices of the Dwarves.  There would be several sessions with weapons, as each military group sought to understand and appreciate the fighting styles of their Allies.

To the immense relief of all the Kings (and Queen), most of the planning and organizing for this was left to the capable hands of their Aides.  Balin, Hilda and Galion and Rúmil, had been meeting for weeks, to discuss customs and ideas that would best suit everyone.

 

Once Bard and Thranduil were settled in their suite, the Elvenking took his husband to meet the Harad children for the first time.  Upon entering the room, the children scurried to the center of the room and prostrated themselves on their hands and knees, with their foreheads touching the floor.

Bard had been told to expect this, as it was customary in Harad.  He’d also been practicing the correct words to say (although in the end, Adila had to write it out phonetically, and hope for the best): _“Lijochini litinesa tichilalehi.”_

Indis and Adila gathered the children and they sang a popular song from their homeland, as a thank you for giving them a place to live.  Adila explained the song was about the many birds, camels,[1] lions,[2] and elephants[3] which roam Harad, and that the Illustrious King Abdullon has many at his beautiful White Palace.

Bard greeted them according to Harad custom: touching his forehead, then lips, then his heart (which is the opposite when one expresses gratitude, Bard was told), and said, “Thank you, children!”  Then the King of Dale looked on his small piece of paper, and praying he didn’t butcher it, “ _Āmesiganyi nenyi_ , which means ‘I am grateful,’ in my language!  Tomorrow, we will bring you to my Kingdom of Dale where we have prepared a special house for you to live in, while we await word from King Abdu –“  Bard felt a jab in his side. 

“The _Illustrious_ King Abdullon,” Adila whispered, out of the corner of her mouth.

“Oh, sorry – the Illustrious King Abdullon, and I am sure he will be happy and grateful to hear you are well.”

“I want you to know that we all are going to make sure you are kept safe, do you understand?  You will have Elves taking care of you, and you like Elves, don’t you?”

The children smiled and clapped their hands.

“And I want you to make sure you say a proper–“ he looked at his paper again, “Oh dear…  _‘Āmeseginalehu,’_ which in my language means, ‘Thank you,’ to all your Dwarf friends who rescued you and took such good care of you, all right?”

All the children turned toward Queen Dilna, Lady Dís and the Dwarves, and lowered their foreheads to the floor, as a sign of respect.  “ _Āmeseginalehu,”_ their voices sang in unison (It sounded _much_ better coming from them.)

Then Bard was led to a chair set up for him, as the children lined up to be introduced.  Then they bowed their heads, so he could place his hands upon their hair to receive his blessing.

Some were shy, some were boisterous, and _all_ were thrilled to meet their new benefactor!  Bard was moved at this, and was also relieved, when he found very little fear in their eyes.  They seemed to understand that their darkness was over, and their prayers had been answered in the form of gruff-looking Dwarves, tall, ethereal Elves, and a kind, black-haired King, who, though he wore no crown, had no camels or elephants, was still powerful and would protect them, until they could go home, which was probably in the spring.

 _“_ Do not see them as broken children, My Lord,” Indis had warned, “lest they themselves begin to believe it.  Children have a magical way of bouncing back from the worst horrors, if given the proper support.”

“And what is your name?”  Bard asked a girl, who looked to be about Bowen’s age.

“I am Rania, Your Illust-, I mean, My Lord.”  She covered her mouth and giggled.

“Ah.  That’s what you call King Abdullon.” he smiled. “‘Your Illustrious Majesty’ is a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“He is a very great King, so I do not mind.”  Rania’s head was full of long, blue-black curls, her face was round and cheery, and when she smiled, her white teeth shone.   Like all the children, she was beautiful, and seemed very sweet.

“‘My Lord’ is a bit easier, don’t you think?  I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he leaned closer and admitted, “I haven’t been a King very long, so I _like_ things to be easy.”  Bard winked at her, as she giggled, then bowed her head, as he put his hands on her and said:

“May Varda bring you hope,

May Tulkas, make you strong,

May Aulë strengthen your will,

May Nienna teach you mercy,

May Ulmo bring you wisdom,

May Estë heal your hurts,

May Oromë make you swift,

May Yavanna give you shelter,

May Vairë give you a long life,

May Nessa help your heart be light,

May Lórien give you happy dreams, and

May Namó grant you peace.

 

 

 “Thank you,” Rania said, and touched her heart, her mouth, then and her forehead, Harad for expressing thanks (which Bard struggled to keep straight), and stepped aside for the next child.  

When all had received their blessing, it was time for another Haradhrim tradition, so Indis and Adila settled the children on the rugs and waited for the King of Dale to begin his _T’ibebi yazele tarīki_.

~o0o~

 

> _“A_ _what?_  I have to do _what?”_  Bard raised his eyebrows at Adila.  “What in the world is a ‘Tibbebbell…?'”
> 
> “A ‘ _T’ibebi yazele tarīki_.’  A ‘Tale of Wisdom,’ My Lord,” Adila explained patiently. “The children will be expecting it.”
> 
> “But… why?”
> 
> _“_ As their Guardian you are the _Rasi_ \- the Leader - of their _Gosa_ , My Lord,” Adila explained patiently, “and as the _Rasi_ , it is your sacred duty to impart your vast knowledge upon the children, so they may grow to be as wise as you.”
> 
> Percy snickered and crossed his arms.  “Oh, this is gonna be good…”
> 
> “Pers,” Bard narrowed his eyes, “the Dungeons were finished last week - care to try them out?”
> 
> Thranduil just smiled into his knuckles.
> 
>  “Do not worry, My Lord.  It sounds grander than it is.  What the children expect, is for you to tell them a _Tereti,_ a story.   A parable or fable, if you understand my meaning.”
> 
> “Oh, is that all?  I remember some when my kids were small… Mattie’s Da brought this big book from Dorwinian, but it’s lost now…”  Bard rubbed his chin.  “There was ‘The Miser,’ and ‘The Snake and the Eagle…’”   
> 
> “I believe I have such stories in my library, Bard.  We tell our children such tales, as well.”  Thranduil offered.
> 
> “That’s great, but we’re going to Erebor tomorrow _,_ so I need to learn it today, don’t I?”
> 
> Adila cleared her throat, “My Lord,” she handed him several pieces of paper.  “I’ve taken the liberty of providing this first one.   It is a common story, and something familiar may make them feel at home.” 
> 
> “Oh, bless you,” Bard took it gratefully.  “Are there many Harad words to memorize?” he winced.
> 
> “I have written them out, My Lord.” Adila smirked. “But you still need to practice your pronunciation.”
> 
> Bard sighed.  “I still get yelled for my Sindarin.”
> 
>  “Do not worry, My Lord,” Adila reassured him.  “Just read this over, and you will do fine. Keep a small piece of paper in your hand like before, to help you with the Haradhish words.”
> 
> “Er…  Thanks.  I really appreciate all you’ve done, really.”
> 
> “It is my honor, My Lord.”  The Blacksmith’s wife curtsied and left.
> 
> “O, My King,” Percy bowed with a flourish, “we humbly stand in awe of your immeasurable wisdom. Shine on us poor lowly peasants.”
> 
> Bard picked up a stack of papers and smacked him on the head.
> 
> “Ow!” Percy howled. 
> 
> “Silence, peasant!” Bard hit him again. “Hold still, while I ‘shine my wisdom’ upon you.”

 

 

> Rhian looked up from her desk, at the sounds coming from Bard’s study.  “What in the world is that noise?"
> 
> “Don’t ask, love.” Hilda advised. 

~o0o~

So now, the King of Dale was understandably nervous, as kids can be a tough crowd.

“Are we ready, children?” Bard smiled from his chair. “Here goes…” 

 

> _“Once upon a time, a rich man set out for a journey in the desert, with his many camels to carry his tents, all his food and his many water skins.  One day, he reached the top of a sand dune and is surprised to see a small, thin tree growing in the sand._
> 
> _“‘Will you not share some of your water with me?’ the tree asked._
> 
> _“The man cursed the young tree, saying, ‘I will not!  I am traveling and need the water myself.’_
> 
> _“‘But I will surely die,’ the tree tells him. ‘Can you not spare even one drink of water, so that I might live?’_
> 
> _“‘No,’ he told the tree. ‘I cannot help you.’  And with that, the rich man turned away and continued his journey, but he became lost was never seen again._
> 
> _“A second man comes along, this time traveling on foot, with only water skin and a few drops of water.  He is parched with thirst, but when he meets the same tree, he is filled with joy, prostrates himself and gives thanks to the Varinēri._
> 
> _“‘Praise be to Yehiyiweti, for even in the desert, she gives life!’_
> 
> _“Before the tree even asks, the second man gives his last drops of water to the tree.  ‘Though I shall surely die,’ he said to the tree, ‘I will die in peace, knowing my last act was one of kindness kindness.’  And with that, poor man collapsed in the sand and closed his eyes, to await the end._
> 
> _“As the man slept, that small, barren tree began to grow, and leaves sprouted from its bare branches.  It grew to an immense height, and filled out enough to offer shade for many men and their animals, and fruit of all kinds appeared on its branches.  On the ground, clean water began to flow, enough to fill a small lake._
> 
> _“The man awakened from his sleep, and at first he thought he had died and gone to Geneti!  He could hardly believe his eyes, when he looked up at the lush, green tree above him, down at the cool, green grass underneath him, and the pool of water ahead of him.  He lowered his head and once again gave thanks, and began to eat the fruit and drink the water, until he became well._
> 
> _“One day, he left, but only long enough to fetch his bride.  When he returned, they built a home under the tree, and had many children, and these children went on to have families of their own._
> 
> _“The man lived to a ripe old age, and died with peace and gratitude in his heart. The man’s descendants continued to prosper and eventually became the Kings of that great land._
> 
> _“That first man had many possessions: camels, food, and much water, but he saw the tree in the desert as a burden, and turned away from it.  Yet, his wealth did not save him in the end, did it?_
> 
> _“The second, wiser man, who possessed almost nothing, saw the tree as a blessing, and gave all he had to save it, and his faith and gratitude gave birth to the land we know as Harad.”_

“The End!”  Bard threw up his hands and smiled.  “How was that?”

All the children began to cheer (even those who didn’t quite understand Westron), and when Bard looked over at the adults, he saw his husbands wide smile, as he joined in the applause.

 

 “I’d say today went well,” Bard sighed in their guest suite, as he stripped off his clothes and crawled into bed.  “Though I think I the children were disappointed at the sight of me.”

“Why do you say that?” Thranduil raised his arm and put it around Bard’s shoulders, and gathered him close.

“Well, Adila said all they talked about was this ‘Great King Bard.’  I think they expected me ride in on an Elephant, covered in jewels with a high, glittering crown, and six servants throwing rose petals in my path.   Then I walk in - just plain homely old Bard.”

“Perhaps they thought you would be taller.”  Thranduil chuckled.  

“Or prettier.” Bard yawned.  “Too bad they’re stuck with my ugly mug-  _OOOF!”_ Bard found himself on his back, with his arms pinned above his head.  “What?”

“I am glad you are ugly, _Meleth nîn_.” Thranduil peppered his face with kisses.  “No one will try to steal you, and carry you off on his elephant.”

Bard laughed, “Oh, I don’t know.  If the elephant is really impressive, I might just run off, anyw- _Mmmmmrfff!”_

Words weren’t possible, after that, because his Elf imprisoned his mouth, before taking possession of the rest of him, which turned out to be a much better offer than riding away on an elephant.

 

“Bard?”  Thranduil asked him much later.

“Hmmmmm.” Bard said, sleepily, resting his head on Thranduil’s shoulder.

“Do you know what an elephant looks like?”

“Not a clue, love.”

 

 

Early the next morning, there was a knock on the door of the Kings’ guest suite.  The King Under the Mountain needed to see them right away.

“What’s happened?”  Bard asked, when they sat down with Dáin and Dilna in his study.

“Got a message from my son, in the Iron Hills, late las’ night. I’d show it to ye, but it’s no’ in Westron.  Seems a coupla those arseholes from the group who took those bairns came to the gates o’ ‘is place lookin’ for ‘em.  Lyin’ through their teeth, they were, makin’ up some bullshit about lost relations.”

“How do you know they weren’t sent by King Abdullon?”

“Two things: These men weren’ dark; they were pale and pinkish, and no’ one of ‘em ‘ad a Royal Marker.” Dáin picked up a piece of paper from his side table.  “When I ruled the Iron Hills, the ‘arad, _always_ wore this,” he handed Bard a sketch. _“Tha’s_ the Seal ye need te look for, and nowt else.  Keep that.”

“What happened to those men?” Thranduil asked.

“Tell me you didn’t kill them!” Bard winced.  “Not that I’d blame your son, but if we could find out more about their whole operation…”

“Dinna fash, Lads.  Thor’s got ‘em an’ they ain’t goin’ noplace.  Soon as we ken somethin’, we’ll make sure ye ken what’s what.  Once they’re done bein’ useful…” he made a slicing motion across his throat.  “I’d call it a grand day, if we could shut those sons o’ bitches down fer good an’ all.”

“Could you ask your son to hold off on executing them?”

“Why, Bard?”  Thranduil asked him.

“I was thinking…. Maybe the Haradhrim have strong ideas about justice.”

Dáin rubbed his beard.  “Ah ken if it was _my_ kids, _I’d_ want to do the honors…”

Thranduil was impressed.  “It might help relations with their country, if we respect their right for retribution,” 

“Exactly.  Let me ask Mistress Adila.” Bard told him.  “Have you heard news of the messengers we sent to King Abdullon?”

It had been two weeks since a small party of Elves accompanied by Gloin and Gimli, left to travel past the Iron Hills and into Harad to see their King.   It was estimated that the trip would take over a month each way, and that was _only_ if they encountered no problems. 

“Thor sent two ‘o ‘is lads with ‘em, as they’d traveled that way before, and met the King.  Should ‘elp ease the way.”

“And there’s no chance those papers will be discovered?  In the wrong hands, they would lead them right to us!”

“No’ to worry, lad.  The Elf and I sealed in a mithril box, and only a spell can open ‘em or the hands of the King ‘imself.”

“That’s brilliant.  I wonder if we’ll see more of those people before spring.”

“Keep yer eyes peeled, Lads.  I’ve go’ a real bad feelin’ aboot this.  Those bastards ain’t given that shit up withou’ a fight, and ye can bet they’ll find ou’ sooner or later you’ve got ‘em.  Mark my words, lads; there’ll be big trouble ‘afore we’re done with this lot.”

“We shall be ready,” Thranduil promised.

“And we’re right wi’ ye.” 

“We will need to meet about this soon, _mellon_ , and decide on a strategy,” the Elvenking suggested.  “In the meantime, I will make sure they are guarded, and if any of your Dwarves could help, it would be appreciated.”

“You got it.” Dáin nodded.  “If trouble comes, bring em back ‘ere and we’ll seal them in the Mountain where _no one_ can get at ‘em.” 

“Agreed.”

 

 

After lunch, the Dwarves lined up on the walkways of Erebor to wave goodbye to their young guests.   Queen Dilna gave them each a gold ring to remember their time in the Lonely Mountain, and Lady Dís gave them gold chains, so they could wear the rings around their necks until they their fingers grew big enough to fit them.

Bofur led a farewell song which echoed throughout the caverns, as the children waved to them and made ready to load into the wagons. 

“Thank you, Your Royal Majesties,” Bard bowed low to Dáin and Dilna.  “My Lady,” he bowed again to Dís.  “You saved them, and I can only hope to continue your good work.”

“Aye, yer welcome, laddie.” The King Under the Mountain said.  “Tis us who owe the thanks.  These tall walkways are nae place fer a bunch o’ bairns.  Half of ‘em be fallin’ te their deaths ‘afore the year is out.” 

 

The ride to Dale was short but pleasant, as the Kings and their Guards escorted their new charges over the long bridge of the river, then through the North Gate of the City. 

The children grew silent, and their eyes grew wide with nervousness, as they saw the people, some of whom had lined up to greet them.  Bard expected that; these were Men, and it would take a while for them to trust the residents of Dale.

“Don’t worry,” Bard called to the wagons, “no one is going to hurt you here; I promise.”

When the caravan stopped in front of the Orphanage, the children craned their necks to see everything, as they lined up to for the Elves to help them down.

Bard led them into their temporary home, gave them a short speech (his favorite kind) and, with the smile and a wave, left them to the care of the Elves, to get them settled.

 

***************

**City of Dale, 23 rd of November 2942 T.A.**

For the second time in less than a month, the City was quiet, and schools and shops were closed for the day.

Another Memorial Service was taking place, this time at the burial grounds in Hope Field, which was led by the all three Kings.  The carefully-planned service honored the thousands who had died on that Field one year ago today.

Bard was giving a speech, of course, but to be honest, few heard his words, as they became lost in their own memories of the horrors, the losses, the bravery, and the triumph of the Battle of the Five Armies:

 

~~~

Ben stood with his arm around Rhian’s shoulders, as she held Darryn, looking sober.  As much as she had always loved Ben, and was glad he was her Da, Phylip was still her father, though he was cold and unfeeling towards her.  Recently, she realized she didn’t want to be burdened with anger toward him anymore.  She silently wished him well, and hoped that he and Mam could find a way to have some peace where they are now.

~~~

Anna and Daffyd stood by Owen’s sons, while Powell held baby Owena.  Bowen’s shoulders shook, as he wept for his Da that he still missed so badly he couldn’t sleep sometimes.  Anna herself had tears on her face as she did her best comfort the child, and his dog, Beriel leaned against him, nudging and licking his hand.  Maddox was also crying, not only for his Da, but his Mam, too, so Daffyd picked him up and spoke comfort to him.

~~~

Hannah was with her son and his two small children, as her daughter-on-law wept for both her parents, who bravely charged out of the Great Hall that day, led by Hilda, and gave their last, to protect their people.

~~~

Feren and Glélindë were with their two daughters and Grandfather Gruffudd, who wept for his friends, and, if truth be told, his missing leg.  Little Dafina, now four, frowned at her Grandad and lifted her skirt to wipe away his tears, too little to realize her petticoat was showing, but her sincere innocence made everyone smile, and brought him comfort.

~~~

Ermon stood with his arm around Elénaril protectively, as her hand unconsciously settled on her abdomen, giving thanks for the two new lives growing within her.  They both remembered that terrible day, when wave after wave of the injured and dying were brought to the Healing Tent, and it seemed like it would never stop.  Neither of them had slept for three full days, as they frantically tried to save as many as they possibly could, knowing even their best efforts would never be enough.

~~~

The members of the Original Company stood as a group and wept, Dwalin hardest of all.  They had lost their beloved friend and King, and two Princes they had watched grow up since birth.  They mourned Thorin, Fili and Kili and all they could have been, had the Gold-Sickness not plagued their King.  They wept from guilt and sorrow over all their kinsmen, who had died because they joined the Battle so late.

~~~

Tauriel stood with her brothers and sisters at first, but then she burst into tears, remembering her beloved Kili, and how he had saved her life, only to lose his own before her eyes.  She wept over losing Legolas’ friendship and missed him more than ever.  Thranduil heard her sobs, and saw Sigrid try to comfort her, so he quietly stepped over to his daughter, and took her in his arms to soothe her.  Then he took her over to the Original Company, where she fell into Dwalin’s arms and they held each other and cried some more.

~~~

Llewelyn and Seren stood with their two boys, Ethan and Liam.  Seren was holding nine-month-old Liliwen, who was born at Thranduil’s Palace, and had her father’s blue eyes and bright red hair.  Llew was weeping over the loss of _all four_ of his brothers and many of his friends on that Battlefield, too.  He had one sister left, who stood with him, as she too, wept not only for her brothers, but her husband, too.

~~~

Lynne and Mona, who owned the Fabric shop in Dale were there, arm-in-arm.  Neither had been born in Laketown, and they had no family to speak of when they were forced to a life of service to two cantankerous sisters, Ina and Iola.  King Thranduil and Lord Bard had freed them from what amounted to slavery to the old sisters, and given them hope for a good future for the first time in their lives! 

Along the way, Lynne and Mona, had unexpectedly fallen in love, and had been married in a lovely ceremony by the two Kings last August.  Lord Alun had felt badly about his mother’s and his aunt’s treatment, and insisted upon paying for their rings  He and his son Rhys, stood for the couple, at their wedding.

In September, they received a letter from Mistress Ina, apologizing for everything. They knew of course, that Iola had killed herself in February, and rumors had spread of the damage the woman had caused.  Lynne and Mona had no room in their lives for bitterness anymore, so of course they wrote back and sincerely wished her well.

~~~

Rodric and Catrina, the owners of Long Lake tavern, stood with their friends, Tom the Potter (now the Constable) and his wife, along with their three sons, one of whom was also a Constable, while the other two worked the wheels and the kilns, while their Mam ran the store.

Tom’s favorite cousin Sior had been killed a year ago today, after losing his wife and children in Laketown.  The day of the Battle, Tom knew Sior didn’t much care whether he lived or not, and was later told that Sior had jumped in front of a sword that was about to cleave the head of the Basket weaver’s youngest son.  Tom looked over his wife’s head, and saw the Weaver and his boy, in the distance, and couldn’t help but feel glad.  Tom was a man of deep faith, and knew Sior was where he wanted to be, and that young man has a good life ahead of him, thanks to his cousin’s sacrifice.

~~~

Bronwyn was fortunate not to have lost anyone close to her at the Battle of the Five Armies, but too many of her students had.  Images of all those traumatized children who had gathered in the Children’s Tent still haunted her (though bless King Bard and the Elves for giving them a safe space to play!).  They had been so thin, and so incredibly _sad!_   Many of the children wept, and just wanted their Mam and Das, who were gone forever.  Most of them were beyond tears, and stared blankly at nothing, because reality was just too hard. 

And look at all of them, now!  They all still mourned of course, but their cheeks were plumper, and many of them had grown several inches in the last year!  Life went on, and Bronwyn prayed that each of those kids would learn to go on with it.

~~~

Sigrid stood in front of Auntie Hil and Uncle Percy, and held her little sister protectively, much like she had at the Battle.   

“ _Don’t_ _look_ , _Til_ ,” Sigrid had said, as she huddled with her sister in that alleyway, “ _Here_.” She turned her sister around and held her tight.  “ _Face_ _me,_ _Beanie_.  _Cover_ _your_ _ears_ , _and_ _don’t_ _look_.” 

 “ _I_ _want_ _my_ _Mam_ ,” Tilda had said in a small voice.  Then she didn’t talk again for over a week. 

It’s funny the things a person thinks about when the whole world is about to end, isn’t it?  Sigrid’s main thoughts throughout that horrible day was spent wondering why Tilda would think of her Mam.  Sigrid has been grateful for the distraction, as she covered Tilda’s ears and tried to sing something to drown the screams and the roars and the horrible sounds of swords clashing, and flesh tearing (she never thought that would even _make a noise_ , but she would swear till her dying day, that’s what she heard.)

~~~

Percy had his arm around Hilda, was remembering what Bard had cried that day: _“Anyone who wants to give their last, follow me!”_

And they did.  Without hesitation, all the Laketown folk followed him to certain death.

 _No one_  had _any_ expectation of living through it.  They only hung on to the slim hope that their loved ones, locked in the Great Hall might make it out alive.  Then and now, all believed the sacrifice was worth it.

Percy also remembered seeing his feisty wife appear, viciously swinging a sword (which she picked up from a dead Elf), screaming (and using language she would vehemently deny later) at every Orc she met. 

 _“No one is going to try and kill my family!”_ he heard her scream at one of them, as she slit his throat, “ _How dare you! ...sniveling slimy fucking bastards think you can waltz into our City and wipe us out!  I’m not going anywhere, and neither are the rest of us, you arseholes!  Not without a fight!”_

Despite his tears, Percy smiled, and kissed his wife’s hair.  Thranduil was right, when he called Hilda the “Mother of Dale.”

~~~

Thranduil had been standing with Dáin, and wasn’t doing well at all.  He had written meaningful words of encouragement, but now, when he saw all the people out there in the crowd, the memories and guilt of that day came flooding back. 

These people, _all of them, would be dead,_ if Tauriel had not kept him from leaving that Battle…

 If Legolas had not stopped him from cutting her throat….

If Mithrandir had not confronted him with his twisted idea that claiming his necklace would somehow ease the pain of losing Mírelen…

Anxiety that he thought he was long past, welled up inside him, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe…  Tears filled his eyes, and he began to panic. It all came flooding back, those faces lying on the ground…. Just like Dagorlad…

“My Lord?”  The Elvenking felt Galion squeeze his elbow and whisper.  “It is time, Thranduil.”  The Aide _knew,_ and Thranduil found comfort in that.

Bless his Bowman, too, for when Bard stepped down from the podium, he took Thranduil’s hand and squeezed it for a moment, sending him as much love and strength as he could manage.

“Just go on up," he whispered, and squeezed his hand again, "and I’ll help you get through it.”

He looked over to the right, where his Elven Army stood, and met Feren’s eyes.  The Commander, gave a sharp order in Sindarin.  Immediately, the all his Elves stood at ease and removed their helmets, so Thranduil could see the trust and loyalty in their faces. 

Feren remembered that day too, and gave Thranduil an encouraging nod, as if to say, _you did not fail us,_ _Mellon_ _nîn_.

When he finally was able to speak, everyone forgave him for the emotion in his voice, and many forgave him for more than that, for which Thranduil would be forever grateful.  Maybe someday he would be better at forgiving himself. 

 

**Lothlórien, November 24 th, 2942 T.A.**

Haldir was finished with work for the day, so he walked among the trees on the forest floor, back to the _talon_ he shared with his second-in-command and brother, Orophin, and the Guardian from Mirkwood. 

 _Woodland Realm,_ he reminded himself with a wince.  Daeron _hated_ it when ‘Mirkwood’ accidentally slipped out, and the Marchwarden was doing his best to respect that.  Rúmil had written of his admiration for these Guardians who never let go the hope that one day their home would be as beautiful and lush and green as the Golden Wood (that Rúmil admitted he had taken for granted).

~o0o~ 

 

> When Lord Celeborn first called Haldir into his study to discuss the “exchange program,” Haldir argued vehemently against it.  He saw no need for it, to be frank, and he was concerned the increased interaction with outsiders could leave Lothlórien vulnerable, and that was something he would never risk!  It was a bad idea, and he told Celeborn so.
> 
> Still, the Lord (and Lady) prevailed with patience, the Guardians arrived, and Daeron was ensconced in Rúmil’s rooms (his youngest brother had jumped at the chance to go!) and that was that.
> 
> And yet, as the weeks went on, he found he genuinely liked this young Lieutenant, who was an exceptional Soldier and gifted Healer.  They shared many evenings in the sitting room or on the balcony sharing stories of their families and their lives, and Haldir realized they had much in common, with their pensive natures, devotion to their duties, and close relatives who will not allow them to brood too much!

~o0o~

Yesterday, just after Orophin had left for the fences with the Guardians, Messengers had arrived from the North and he saw Daeron smile, as he gathered up his post and a package, and head to their _talon_.

But the Lieutenant had stayed in his rooms the entire evening.  When Haldir knocked to tell him supper was ready, Daeron politely said wasn’t hungry and that he needed an early night.

He hadn’t seen the Guard this morning either; the Elf was gone before he woke up.  But Haldir was genuinely becoming concerned, and when he entered his home and saw a light underneath Daeron’s door, he decided he needed to get to the bottom of it.

“Daeron?”  He called out, as he knocked.  “May I talk to you?”

“Come in.”

The Guard didn’t look up, when the Marchwarden entered the room and sat in one of the chairs. 

“ _Mellon_?  Are you well?”

“No,” The Elf was sitting on his bed, looking out the window. “I am sorry.”

Haldir saw the stack of letters on his dresser and his package.  “I see you have heard from your friends and family.”  He looked very concerned.  “Did you get some upsetting news?”

“Yes.” His voice tightened, and he tried to blow out a shaky breath.

“ _Mellon_ _nîn_ , I have known since you arrived that there is a shadow hanging over you.  I do not wish to pry, but I must tell you that I am worried.”  The Marchwarden leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.  “I would like to help you, if I can.”

Daeron shook his head. “There is no help for something like this.”

Haldir got up to sit beside him on the bed, and put his hand on his shoulder.  “Would it help to talk about it?”

“I do not know, but I think you deserve to understand.”  Daeron took several deep breaths.  “I loved someone once…” he began, hesitantly at first, then soon he was pouring out the entire story of Sellwen, and how long it took him to get past it.

 Haldir listened intently as Daeron told him of meeting Rhian, and how his _Fëa_ reacted, when he touched her wrist.  Then he spoke of her dead husband and his abuse of her, and how she and the baby nearly died giving birth.  He told the Marchwarden about Darryn’s birth and how he realized he was deeply in love with her, but wanted to give her time to overcome her traumas.  Then he told Haldir of his meeting with Thranduil, and of the Lady’s message.

“And you received a letter from her?”

“Yes.  She is spending time with someone else, and she will never return my feelings.”

Daeron managed to say all that without tears, while Haldir listened in silence, and nodded his head in encouragement, though Daeron never took his eyes off the floor. 

“And you care deeply for Rhian’s child?”

“I do.  I have never had a son, but he feels…”  he put his hand over his heart.  “From the moment I first saw him…. I do not understand it…”

“Few can, _mellon_.  When it comes to matters of the heart, what is, _is.”_ Haldir said softly.  “Have you opened your package?”

“Not yet.  I know it is a painting of the boy; Rhian told me King Thranduil had done it.”

“Would you like to see it?”

Daeron nodded, and Haldir took it of the dresser and brought it to him.  With a deep breath, he undid the fastenings, and unfolded the soft cloth from the frame…

 _…and there he was._ Darryn was smiling up at the artist, with his thick head of dark hair, no longer in tight curls, but now waves framing his face.  His eyes were dancing with delight and he had apples in his cheeks from his huge smile.  He was holding a small blanket by the corner, dragging it behind him, and his other arm was waving in the air as a counter balance, as he was taking what looked to be his first steps.

“He is a beautiful child.  I can see why you love him.”

“Rhian said he… saw a picture of me, and called me ‘ _Ada…’”._ The Guardian’s eyes swam, as he lifted a finger and traced the outlines of the little boy’s smile, showing his baby teeth.  “I do not think I can bear this…” and his shoulders began to shake, as he silently cried.

 Haldir squeezed Daeron’s shoulder and tried to support him, as he thought about all the Guardian had told him, and he felt it to be cruel.  Daeron had done everything right, and it seemed as if love had been snatched away not once, _but twice?_

“Haldir… I do not know what to do anymore,” Daeron swallowed, “and I do not know why I should try.” 

“Daeron, what are you saying?”

“Perhaps I should sail to Valinor…”

 

  

**NOTES:**

The Harad words in this story are actually Amheric (an Ethiopian Semetic Language, which I swiped from Google Translate).  If I have any readers from that region, **_please_** forgive me for butchering it.

 _Gosa –_ a large extended family (“More than family”)

 _Nefisi –_ the Soul, which the Elves would call the _Fëa_.

 _Varinēri_ – Valar

 _īru īlivatari_ – Eru Ilúvatar

 _Lijochini litinesa tichilalehi_ – You may rise, children

 _Kewakibiti Nigišiti_ – Queen of Stars (Varda, Elbereth)

 _T’ibebi yazele tarīki_ – Tale of Wisdom

 _Tereti –_ Story; fable

 _Yehiyiweti –_ Yavanna

 _Geneti –_ Paradise (the afterlife)

 

\--Dáin’s son is Thorin III Stonehelm, current Lord of the Iron Hills.

 

[1] Camels were animals native to the Southern lands, and thus appear illustrated on a map of Middle-earth.  <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Camels>

 

[2] Apparently, the lions roamed the lands of the East (perhaps referring to the lands beyond Rhûn, the Uttermost East), hunting "beasts and tender men".  [J.R.R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien (ed.), The Lost Road and Other Writings, "Part Three: The Etymologies"]  <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Lions>

 

[3] Elephants were creatures only mentioned fleetingly. Gandalf does mention them, so it is possible that they shared the wide burning plains of the Harad with what would be their giant relatives, the Mûmakil:  <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Elephants>;  _The Hobbit,_ by J.R.R. Tolkien, Ch 1: “An Unexpected Party”; and Ch 2: “Roast Mutton.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Daeron... Let’s see what Haldir has to say...


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kings explore a spot for private getaways, and Thranduil tests out a theory, then makes some plans for the upcoming holidays.
> 
> Daeron learns a bit more about the solemn Marchwarden, who gives him some good advice.
> 
> And... LETTERS FROM LOTHLORIEN!

 

 

“…There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.”

― **Homer, The Iliad**

**City of Dale, 25th of November 2942 T.A.**

Once everyone got through the first anniversary of the Battle, everyone returned to their duties with renewed dedication, vowing to appreciate the sacrifice of those who had gone before.

The Harad children were doing well, so far.  Adila and Indis had them quickly settled into a busy routine, and while they were careful to honor the children’s heritage, they also set forth to teach them about the varying cultures and languages of the North, in hopes that these few children might, in a ripple effect, make a positive change in relations between the Harad and other countries. 

The children especially loved it when King Thranduil came to see them!  He had told them that the white walls of their big Common Room were much too plain, and asked if they would like to make it more colorful.  He brought them a book of animals, and let the children select what they liked, then drew the outlines of all kinds of animals, trees, houses, and grass, wherever they wanted.   Over the next several weeks, the Elvenking arrived with the Prince and Princesses (dressed in old clothes) and they all helped the children to fill in the lines.  By the time everyone stepped back to admire the menagerie, they all were covered in paint with happy smiles in their faces.

 

Two days after the Remembrance Services was a cold day, but clear and sunny, with no wind.  Bard showed up at the door of Thranduil’s study, and asked him to take the afternoon off.

“Come on, love,” Bard told his husband.  “I feel like a ride; and it’s a nice day.”

“Why not?” Thranduil put down his pen and screwed the top on his inkwell.  We have been much occupied of late, and would be nice to take a few hours and enjoy the fair weather.”

They went to their room to change into riding clothes, then to the stables to saddle up _Fînlossen_ and _Naurmôr_ and rode out of the South Gate and headed for the forest. 

 

After about an hour, they came upon the small abandoned cottage in the thick of the woods, which was probably used by a huntsman before the Dragon came. 

“It’s still hard to picture Dale’s other life.” Bard mused.  “I’ve got Elves to bring us game, but before that, Girion and his ancestors ran things a lot differently.”

“I am glad you do not try to emulate him, Bard.  Do not misunderstand me; he was an admirable, strong Man and a very good King, but each reign must adapt to the world around them.  Problems Girion had to face, were solved by the time you came to the Throne.  His father solved problems for him, only to make way for new ones.  ‘Be where you are at,’ was a saying I have heard often from the folk in Dale, then and now.”

“I’ve heard that, too.” Bard breathed in the clear air with a sigh.  “I love how quiet it is out here.”

“Come,” Thranduil said with a smile.  “Let us go inside.”

They dismounted, and took careful steps on the rotted front porch, then creaked open the door.  Clearly, it had been hardly disturbed, and dust was everywhere.  A window in the back was shuttered, and when they opened it, they found the glass missing. 

“Frankly, I’m surprised this hasn’t been taken over by bandits or something.”

“It is hard to say.  Since we came to Dale last year, my Guardians have made sure to keep it undisturbed.”

“It looks like it was a cozy house at one point,” Bard looked wistfully at the structure.  “Stars, wouldn’t this be would be a great place to escape to, when ‘Kinging’ gets to be too much?  Can you imagine us living here?  With no responsibilities beyond catching fish for our supper, and chopping wood for the fire…  bathing in the river…   I could be really happy here.”

“For a few days,” Thranduil smiled.  “Then I think we would miss our children.”

“Aye,” Bard sighed.  “Still…  those few days would be wonderful…” he looked at his Elf with a gleam in his eyes.

“Bard…”  Thranduil tilted his head, “You must be joking; this place is riddled with dust and filth!” 

Bard walked toward him and took off his gloves, then his cloak.  “You know you love it when I speak Sindarin…”

“Bard –“

 _“Ídhron gi phuithad,_ _Meleth nîn_.” 

“But we have no…”

“We’ll manage.  _Ídhron cened i chent gîn n'i gellog.”_

Thranduil grinned.  “You are incorrigible.”

“That’s what you love about me.” Bard reached for Thranduil, then whispered. “Let’s pretend we’re ordinary people with no burdens or responsibilities, except to ourselves.”

Before Thranduil could protest (which he really didn’t want to do) Bard’s mouth was on his, his tongue was in his mouth, and his hands were fisted in his hair.

Thranduil took off his cloak and spread in on the floor, and wrestled them down to lie facing each other.  He frantically undid the lacings of Bard’s leggings and took hold of the hard cock and began to massage it.

“Aaaah…” Bard hissed, and threw his head back and groaned, before he quickly got to work on his husband’s clothes, then wrapped his hand around the Elf’s smooth cock.

“ _Ai!_ ”  Thranduil yelped, and jerked away. _“Ring mâblín mae!_ Your hands are cold, Bard!”

“Oops!”  Bard snickered, then he brought his hands up and blew on them.  “Sorry.  I don’t feel it so much anymore; I didn’t realize.”

“Here.  Let me,” Thranduil pulled Bard closer and reached down and wrapped his hands around them both.  The Elf began to stroke them together, touching all the right places to bring them pleasure, and soon they were thrusting and panting.  Bard put his hands over Thranduil’s and kissed him hard as their thrusts became more and more urgent.

“Ah… I’m gonna come, love…” Bard whimpered, and buried his face in Thranduil’s neck.

“Yes, _Meleth_ …  do it.  Come for me…”  Then Thranduil bit his ear, which sent him over the edge, with a growl, then Bard sucked on the tips of the Elf’s ear, which made him come with a loud cry.

 

“Oh, boy,” Bard sighed, as he melted into his Elf.  “We are _definitely_ fixing this place up…”  Listen to the quiet, love.   No bustling outside our door, no voices calling…  No Kings,” he kissed Thranduil’s throat. “just two people who can't get enough of each other.”

“It is wonderful.” Thranduil's eyes were closed.

“Winter will slow things down, and we should make the time to do the work ourselves, if we can.”  Bard kissed him on the nose and grinned.  “I miss working with my hands, and this could be our private getaway.  Remember when we said we should try to sneak away once a month, just to lie around naked?  We need to keep doing that, to get back to each other.”

“Then that is what we shall do.” Thranduil arranged himself to sit up, and reached into his pocket to clean themselves off.

And there was no handkerchief.  Not one.  He checked all his pockets, but no luck.

“Oh, don’t tell me…” Bard’s eyes widened incredulously.  “The _one time_ we could really use one?”  Then grabbed his stomach “That’s hilarious!  Ha ha!”

Thranduil raised his brow.  “Is that not fitting?  Here, we are nothing extraordinary, and have no such luxuries as servants to do for us.”

Bard sat up, removed his leggings then his smalls, and handed them over. “Hilda’s gonna kill me…”

“I will not tear them, this time.” Thranduil accepted the cloth and cleaned himself.

Bard rolled his underpants in a ball and stuffed it into the pocket of his coat before they dressed, then Bard did his best to brush the dirt off his Elf’s cloak.  “We should’ve used mine.  If we tried to say _you_ fell, no one would believe it, but they’d have no trouble picturing me with my arse in the dirt.”

They closed the door behind them as best they could, then stepped off the porch, as Thranduil closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky. 

“The trees are happy here,” he said, reverently.  "They sing a beautiful song.”

“I wish I could hear it.” Bard said wistfully.

Thranduil looked at his husband intently.  “Bard?  Did you know that your ancestor, Garon the Founder was the youngest sibling of the Prince of Dol Amroth?”[1] 

“Aye. It was in the book you gave me on the History of Dale.  The one you wrote ages ago, remember?”

“And did you also know that the _first_ Prince of Dol Amroth was Galador?  Whose mother was Mithrellas?”

“No.” Bard shrugged.  “What of it?” 

“Mithrellas was an Elf.”[2]

“What are you saying?”

“Perhaps nothing.  There is no question that whatever Elven blood was in your line has been diluted to minuscule proportions, but you are also my husband,” he tilted his head, “and things are different for you…”

Thranduil took his hand and led him over to a nearby tree.  “You have discovered you are stronger, more agile, and your sight and hearing are now miraculous, Bard.   You also discovered you have a Healing gift.  Do you not remember?" [3]  

“Right, so…”

“Put your hands on this tree.   Take off your gloves, and put them on its trunk.”

Bard did as he was told, and soon found Thranduil at his back, with the Elf’s hands over his. 

“Now, close your eyes, and quiet yourself, _Meleth nîn_.”  Thranduil whispered.  “Deep breaths and bring yourself to a quiet, peaceful place inside….”

Bard took several slow deep breaths, as he pictured the quiet, clean of these woods…

Then it happened. 

A tingle, but not.  A sensation, but then again, not that either, really...

The tree waved its branches, though there was no wind.  

Then Bard felt something like words, but not words…

_Greetings, my friend…_

**_“HOLY SHIT BALLS!”_ ** Bard squealed.   His eyes flew open, and he jumped back so hard he nearly knocked the Elf over.  “That’s…”  he pointed to the tree with a shaking finger.  “It… That…”

“It said hello.” Thranduil said, then stepped around him, put his hands back on the tree and said out loud, _“Áse apsene, nilmo.  Nán Thranduil ar veru ná Bard.”_

“What did you say?” Bard ran his hands through his hair.

“I just told it you meant no harm, and introduced ourselves.”  He turned and grinned at the Bowman.  “You did not want it to think you were calling it a filthy name, did you?"

“Sorry.  I just…”

“I know.” Thranduil tried not to laugh. “Would you like to try it again?”

“Could we?”

"See if you can do it yourself, without me."

Bard did as the Elf instructed, but he could barely sense anything.  "I think I'm too nervous.  Or maybe I need to do it with you, I don't know."

"That is fine.  We will do it together."

They repeated the process, and this time, Bard tried keep himself under control, as he and Thranduil ‘linked’ with the tree and he got used to the sensation.  He could ‘sense’ the tree, and heard a music unlike anything he’d imagined.  It was beautiful.

By the time they took their hands down, Bard’s eyes were teary.  “I’m sorry,” he laughed and wiped them. “That was…  Stars, I can’t explain it.”

“Few can, _Meleth nîn_.”  Thranduil took him in his arms. 

“I just…” the Bowman said, into his neck.  “Thank you.”

“I am happy for you, Bard.”

“I’m happy for _us,_ love.”  Bard sniffed.  “I know you’ve talked about all this, but… I feel like I’ve discovered a whole new side of you!”

“And to yourself, as well.” Thranduil smiled into his hair. “That is very exciting.”

“It’s a gift,” his throat tightened, as he held his Elf tighter. “You… are such a gift, Thranduil.”

“As you are to me. I love you, Bard.”

“I love you back.”

“I wish we could stay here.” Bard sighed. “But duty calls.  I suppose our Guards are in a panic, wondering what became of us.”

“They know exactly where we are,” the Elf raised his brow, then looked to the treetops.  “It is their job to be unseen and silent.  We are well-protected, _Meleth nîn.”_

“Good to know.” Bard looked up.  “Though it’s embarrassing to think they know what we got up to in that cabin.”

“If they did, they do not care.”  Thranduil shrugged.  “Elves do not think such things are worthy of gossip or speculation, Bard.  Guardians do not discuss what they witness, even among themselves, unless there is danger.   It is grounds for dismissal, but mostly it is a matter of honor.” He took the Bowman’s hand.  “But you are right, _Meleth nîn_ , we must go back, much as I would like to stay.”

They went to their horses, but after Bard mounted _Fînlossen,_ he took his foot from the stirrup so his Elf could sit behind him, and _Naurmor_   could follow.  Thranduil wrapped his arms around Bard’s waist and nuzzled and kissed his neck as they slowly made their way back through the woods and to their busy lives.

 

That night, when they were getting into bed, Thranduil brought up something that he’d been thinking of for a while.

“Have you thought about a Yule Festival for Dale, Bard?”

“No one had energy left over to think of it, to be honest.  We should’ve had a Harvest Festival, especially since we had good crops, but we’re all still getting used to things.”

“Next year will be different.  I had wanted to mention it before, but we got caught up with the refugees and such…  I really would like to combine the traditions you celebrated in Laketown, with ours from the Woodland Realm, so that Elves and Men can celebrate together.   I think everyone would enjoy it.” 

“I might be nice.  Didn’t you have a Festival at your Palace last year?”

“The normal week of Yule was spent negotiating with the Dwarves, then holding the Funeral services outside the Palace. It hardly seemed fitting to celebrate, when so many were mourning.”

“Same here, we were busy trying to stay alive, if you remember.  Refugee camps don’t exactly make things festive.”  Bard sighed.  “But don’t think for a minute we weren’t grateful for every blessed one of those tents, love.”

“I know.”  The Elf smiled.  “And you may also remember a small ceremony in my tent, and a wonderful night in my bedchamber...”  he pushed Bard’s hair away from his face.  “It is almost a year since you and I became one, _Hervenn nîn_.  We were married on December 17 th.”

“Holy smokes…  has it been a year already?”  Bard propped his head on his elbow and cupped Thranduil’s face.  “It seems like moments ago, but forever at the same time.”

“If you would permit, I would like to surprise you, for our celebration.”

“Go for it.  I trust you.”  Bard kissed his palm.  “So… tell me how you celebrate the Winter Solstice in your Kingdom?”

“We call it Turuhalmë, which means, “Log Drawing.”  Thranduil held Bard, then went on to describe the week-long celebrations, the sleigh rides, the ice skating, the Ball, and best of all, the Telling of Tales in front of the Yule Log, which has been traditional for Elves, since the First Age.[4]

“When we were children, Feren and I spent the days playing out in the snow.  Even our fathers were out there with us, throwing snowballs and shaping people and animals from the ice and snow.  We had no lessons all that week, and it was the only time of year my father refused any royal duties. 

“The last day of the Festival was the big Feast, and minstrels would come from faraway lands to for the Tale-Telling.  I have many happy memories, sitting on the floor in front of my parents, listening to the Story-Tellers.  But _my_ favorite time was the night before, when families gathered in front of their own fires to exchange gifts, and tell their own tales.”  Thranduil’s face glowed with the memory.  “That night I had my parents _all to myself.”_

“That sounds beautiful love,” Bard kissed his cheek.  “We didn’t have anything like that in Laketown.”

 “Bard!”  He sat up suddenly, “How can that be!  Surely your people did _something,_ did they not?”

“Not really.  We had no way to play in the snow -we lived on water - and life under the Master didn’t make it easy to afford any feasts.”

“No matter.”  Thranduil decided.  “This is a problem with an easy solution.  Dale is a new city, and open to new traditions.  We will have a Winter Festival, and that is that.  I will speak to Hilda and Percy in the morning, and Galion will work with them.  It will be done, and it will be something your people will look forward to, every year.”

“Just like that?”  Bard raised an eyebrow.  “Don’t forget, the King of Dale must give his consent to all this.”

“Perhaps the King of Dale needs a _little_ persuading…”  Thranduil grinned, as he trailed his finger lightly down Bard’s throat, to his chest, and massaged one of his nipples.

“Mmmm…” Bard smirked.  “You’re off to a good start.  Keep convincing me, Elf.”

Thranduil batted his long, black eyelashes at his husband.  “Oh… great and powerful King of Dale, will you grant your permission?  I will make it worth your while…”

Bard snickered, and began to nuzzle Thranduil’s neck.  “Would that be a bribe?”

“Would it work?”  Thranduil whispered, as he nibbled on Bard’s earlobe.

“We’ll have to see, won’t we?”  Bard flopped down and heaved a longsuffering sigh.  “Do your worst.”

“Oh, but I plan on doing my _best, Meleth nîn._ ”

 

After a long while, as they both lay side-by-side panting, Thranduil mumbled.  “So, may we have a Winter Festival in Dale, My King?”

“Mmmm hmmm” Bard sighed. 

So, Dale’s annual Winter Celebration was born. 

 

***************

 

**Lothlórien, 29 th of November 2942 T.A.**

Assisted by several bottles of wine, Daeron and Haldir spent the entire night in the Sitting Room talking and sharing what would be the first of many personal conversations.  Daeron had the sense the Marchwarden very rarely opened up like this, even to his brothers, and the Guardian felt truly honored, and told him so.

“I have been responsible for my brothers for more years than I can count, so it is difficult for me to step back and remember that I am no longer charged with their care.” Haldir huffed a laugh.  “Perhaps I never shall, for is that not the price of parenting?”

“My parents still worry, and I doubt that will stop.”

“I had great difficulty agreeing to allow Rúmil to leave, and almost did not, until Lord Celeborn called me into his study and spoke to me.  He was right to, although I did not want to see it.

“It was I who held him when he cried for our _Adar_ , and then for our _Naneth_ , when she sailed. I also had to help Orophin, because he was… in pieces.  He deeply grieved _Ada_ , but for many years, he felt a great deal of anger toward _Nana_ , because she was not strong enough to stay.  He refused to even say her name, for a long while.”

“When did _you_ have a chance to grieve, Haldir?”  Daeron asked him.

“Not for a long time, _mellon_.  Orophin was only 384 years old, and needed patience, and Rúmil was a small child of 23, and constantly needed reassurance.  I took a sabbatical from my duties and spent time with them, but even then, I barely managed.” The Marchwarden shook his head.  “Caring for them distracted me enough, but when they were better…” Haldir took another drink.  “It was a hard time.”

“Lord Thranduil’s mother was taken to the Havens after King Oropher’s death.  He insisted she go, though she was determined to stay.”

“ _Ai...”_ Haldir sighed.  “It is a common tale, is it not?  Too many Elves have lost their lives, leaving a spouse who cannot cope with the grief.”  He shook his head sadly.  “My mother denied it when I saw her deteriorate.  Orophin did not understand that kind of grief, then, and of course, Rúmil _could_ not.”

“Rúmil idolizes you, Haldir.  He spoke a great deal of you, when we met at the Palace.” 

“He does now, at least.”  The Marchwarden smiled ruefully.  “He was a handful when he was growing up.  I often joked that I was glad my hair is so light, for surely, I have many grey hairs from keeping him from harm.  He refused to slow down on the walkways here, and fell once, thought thank Eru he was on a lower level.”

Daeron winced.  “Was he hurt?”

“He broke a leg and his arm, but was soon healed.  I made him hold my hand on the walkways for years afterward, though he hated it.”

“My cousin Tur and I were a terror in the Palace.  My mother is in charge of the kitchens there, and for some reason, I thought I had naturally inherited her skill, so I decided to make a batch of tarts.”

“What happened?” 

“We set the kitchen on fire.  There are still scorch marks on the ceilings, though he and I spent weeks up on a scaffold scrubbing it.”

As they laughed, Daeron looked down at his drink.  “Thank you, Haldir.  I really appreciate this.”

“May I tell you something, Daeron?”

“Of course.  But only if you wish to.”

“Frankly, the idea of loving a child of Men seems foreign to me, and I am still trying to understand the concepts of The Blessing of Eärendil.”  Haldir swallowed.  “But I do understand your feelings.  I know what it is to love like that, because I had someone, once.”

“I had no idea.  What happened?”

The Marchwarden sighed.  “Her name was Itaril, and like your Queen, was born in Rivendell.  And like you, I felt the power of the _Ehtë Raumo_ when I first took her hand.”

“What was she like?”

“She was a member of Elrond’s Guard, and her prowess with the Sword and Dagger were astounding.” Haldir grinned.  “She even bested _me_ on a regular basis, and that is saying something!”

“It is.” Daeron was impressed.  “You are an amazing fighter, _Mellon_.”

“She was strong, intelligent, and very beautiful, with her dark hair and turquoise eyes.  They fascinated me; sometimes they looked blue, and other times green...  We wrote letters back and forth, I would visit when I had time, she would come to Lothlórien when she could.”

“We were very much in love, Daeron, and I was about to ask her to marry me, when my father was killed.  I became Marchwarden in his place, and had to take on new duties.  Then my mother became ill from grief, and had to leave, and suddenly I was parenting brothers, one buried in hurt and anger, and other a very small child!

“Itaril understood, of course, was willing to bide her time, but I was overwhelmed with all of it.”  He looked at Daeron with sad eyes.  “I…  did something very foolish, then.  Something I have regretted every day of my life since.”

Daeron said nothing, as he took the wine bottle poured out another glass for his friend, and waited until he was ready.

After taking a few more sips, the Marchwarden continued.  “So many things changed in such a short period of time – and you may have noticed how much I hate change.”  He gave Daeron a sheepish smile.  “I was struggling to cope, and I wrote and told her there was no room in my life for such a relationship when I felt pulled in so many directions at once.”

“Perhaps you were afraid of neglecting her.”

“I _was_ afraid, Daeron.  That was the problem, and I didn’t realize it, until it was too late.”

“What happened to Itaril?”

“She was among the Guards who escorted Lady Celebrían, when they were attacked by Orcs.  All were killed, but Lady Celebrían, who was captured and tormented, nearly to death.”[5]

“I have heard of that tragedy, but I am ashamed to say I knew nothing of the Guards who died.”

“And why would you?” Haldir said bitterly.  “There is no list of their names in any written history, except in the hearts of the ones they left behind.”  The Marchwarden closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.  “I loved her, Daeron.  And it was only after she died that I realized what a fool I had been.  A coward and a fool!”

 “Why would you say this, Haldir?”

“Because it is true!  I never saw her love, _our love,_ for what it was.  I only saw it as a task, a burden, yet another thing in my life I had to manage, when I could barely cope with how things had changed.   I was selfish, and thought more of my fear than her.  _Pen-'ur pen-channas!_

“But, your brothers needed you, and you were a new Marchwarden...”  the Guard tried to understand.

“And it was utter nonsense!  That is not what love is, is it?  If I would have made Itaril my wife, we would have _shared_ the burdens!  She would have stood by my side, supported me, and loved my brothers just as I do!  She would have made things easier, not harder!  We would have been happy, and my brothers would have recovered sooner and…”

Haldir slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair, _“All that time,_ I told myself I had made the right choice, when the truth was,” he covered his eyes, “there was never a need to _make a choice at all!_ And I did not see it, until it was too late.  Too late!”

Daeron said quietly.  “I am so sorry, _Mellon_ _nîn_.”

“No, Daeron!”  Haldir’s head snapped up.  _“Do not_ pity me; learn from me!”  The Marchwarden looked at him intensely.  “Let me ask you this **:**  Why did you come here?  Was it because you truly wanted to give Rhian time, or was it because you were running away from your feelings, like me?  Tell me honestly!”

The Guardian sat back and examined himself.  “Rhian needs time to learn to be herself, after suffering so much abuse and neglect.  I will admit that I was running away, too, but not from my feelings.  I was afraid I could not be around her and pretend I was only a friend.”

“So, if she wrote to you and told you she wanted you, would you hesitate at all?”

“No!  I _want_ her to be my wife!  She is my One, just as Sellwen was, and though I do not understand it, I am as sure of it as I can be about anything.”

“Good.”  Haldir tilted his head.  “Now, answer this question:  Did Rhian _tell you_ she was in love with this man she has been spending time with?”

“Well, not yet…”

“How do you know?  What makes you say this?”

“Hannah, my friend and colleague, has written that she thinks they are just good friends, for now…”

“Has _Rhian_ written you about it?  What does _her_ letter tell you?”

“That she has no idea where any of it is going…”

Haldir raised his eyebrow at the Guardian, and gave him a look...

...and something inside Daeron fell back into place, and his insides began to settle.

“You are right.” He felt sheepish.  “It was foolish to panic.”

“Not foolish, _Mellon_ _nîn_.” Haldir poured him another drink.  “You are hopeful, and frightened.”

“I am,” he admitted ruefully.

 “ _Be_ frightened, then, but do not give up, Daeron!  Do not!”  Haldir leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “You love her as much as I loved Itaril, do you not?”

“I do.” 

“Is that love worth fighting for?”

“But I do not know if…”

“No, _you_ _do_ _not!_ But promise me, _promise yourself,_ that no matter what happens, you will find a way to tell her everything!  Please, Daeron; do not be a fool, like I was!”  

“Even if she decides to marry someone else?”

“Yes!  You will regret it if you do not.” Haldir set his cup down and sat back, as he crossed his legs.  “You are right about Rhian: from what you have told me of her past, she _does_ need time.  But you are also _meant_ to be here, for reasons I am not sure even the Lady understands yet. 

“Daeron, you _must_ continue to have faith that whatever your purpose here, the Valar would not leave you in despair.” The Marchwarden looked at him earnestly.  “Have the faith that I did not, and when your time here is up, make sure she knows how you feel about her.  Tell her everything, _Mellon_.  Even if she does not return your feelings, and you decide to sail, you can go with a lighter heart, because you left nothing to chance.”

The Guardian got up and walked over to the window, as the first light from the sunrise peeking through the curtains.  “I will do as you suggest.  You are right, Haldir.  I promise both of us.”

“We should try to get a few hours of sleep before our shifts today.”  The Marchwarden got up and took their cups to kitchen.  “I hope you feel better, _Mellon_ , and thank you for listening to me.   I…  my brothers do not know of this; but perhaps it is time to share it with them.”

“I hope speaking of it helps in some way."

They walked to the back of the _talon_ and just before Daeron opened the door to his rooms, he turned back.

 “Haldir?”

 “Yes?”

“Thank you, for everything.  Remember, you will not be separated from Itaril forever, _Mellon nîn,_ whether it be in Mandos’ Halls or the White Shores, and when you are reunited, I wish you every joy.”

 

***************

 

**LETTERS FROM LOTHLÓRIEN**

**From Celeborn to Thranduil:**   

 

> _Suilad_ _Ettā Thranduil:_
> 
> _I am pleased with the continued success of my Wardens in your Kingdoms, and as my reports from Haldir and Daeron will attest, your subjects continue to do well, here._
> 
> _You might take some comfort in knowing that before I had a chance to speak to my wife about Guardian Daeron’s personal situation, Galadriel had sensed his despair.  She informed me that my Marchwarden has spoken to him at length, and it seemed to ease his mood.  Like you, cousin, I cannot break a confidence, but suffice to say that Haldir’s own past might offer him some wisdom._
> 
> _As I write this, Lieutenant has gone with two other Healers, to another village in our vicinity, to assist with a Pox outbreak and to try to control its spread.  Before he left, though, I have noticed that he is subdued, but determined to focus on his duties here._
> 
> _Galadriel does not yet know the reasons why Daeron is needed here, but we must have faith all will be revealed at the proper time._
> 
> _I must tell you, Galadriel and I are very much amused at her blossoming friendship with your little Tilda.  She looks forward to her charming, whimsical letters and I believe they have done much to lighten her fëa, which still struggles after her confrontation at Dol Guldur.  If your new children can have such a magical effect from a distance, then I am especially assured that they have done even more to heal your wounded heart after so many years of melancholy.   I am happy for you._
> 
> _We are very much looking forward to a visit from our grandchildren, who will be coming in a few weeks to spend the winter.  As you can imagine, things are about to get much livelier, especially with the twins!  Elladan and Elrohir have never really outgrown their impish behavior, though they treat their father with great tenderness and are very protective of their sister (who seems to be the only one who can make them behave!)_
> 
> _If anyone can cheer up your young Lieutenant, Mellon nîn, it will be my grandsons!_
> 
> _Peace to you, your people and your family,_
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Celeborn_

***************

 

 **To Turamarth from Daeron:**  

 

> _Suilad,_ _Gwador_ :
> 
> _As requested, I am writing you first, because I am sure you are worried about me.   Though I wish you had been the one to share the discouraging news, I can understand why you did not, and forgive you.  Hannah was considerate in her letter, and softened the blow, which made Rhian’s letter easier to digest._
> 
> _It is true, Gwador, that while I desperately want a life with Rhian, she must be allowed to choose freely, with no pressure, otherwise both of us end up in misery.  I know you must be longing to talk to her, to tell what you know, but please, please, I must demand that you resist temptation – though I know it would be out of love for me.  Please, Tur.  _
> 
> _I know I ask a great deal, but I cannot do this any other way._
> 
> _It is remarkable sometimes how the Valar sends help in unexpected ways, cousin.  After I received these letters, Marchwarden Haldir and I spent hours talking, and he was an enormous help, and urged me not to lose faith._
> 
> _So, I am determined to remain as before; hopeful, patient, and mindful of the tasks before me, and appreciating the sights and sounds of this region._
> 
> _I been thinking recently of how much time and energy you have spent supporting me, Turamarth, and it makes me feel selfish! _
> 
> _It is true that you help me more than I can tell you, but you must promise me, Gwador, that if you ever feel the magic of the Ehtë Raumo, when you meet the One who is meant for you, take your chance at happiness!  Do not hesitate, even if it means you live on the other side of Middle Earth, and I never hear from you again!  _
> 
> _I do miss you, Tur.  I miss all of you._
> 
> _Daeron_

_***************_

 

**From Galadriel to Tilda:**

 

> _Greetings to you, my young friend:_
> 
> _I received your letter and I enjoyed it very much.  My husband Celeborn (who is your Ada’s cousin), has given me a special box to keep your letters in, because they bring me such cheer._
> 
> _I am glad your father helped you understand what I meant about being cheerful.  My husband and our Healer here tell me the same thing.   I am very much improved, thanks to something called “Eärendil’s Blessing” – which your Ada can tell you about – but the rest of my healing will take time, just like yours._
> 
> _You see, Tilda, just as you still recover from your serious illness, Tilda, I encountered something that has left me in a weakened state._
> 
> _Like you, I sometimes feel frustrated that I cannot do all the things I used to, or would like to, but perhaps you and I can encourage each other to be patient, yes?  Together we will wait, until our health returns._
> 
> _Your body might be weakened at the moment, but you are still very powerful.  Yes, little Princess, you have power!  Perhaps not with the magic that I possess, but you have done something that many others, even the great Healer, Lord Elrond could not!_
> 
> _You see, your Ada was very sad for a long time (many hundreds of years) and we all were worried that he could never find a way to be happy.  Daeron tells me that you and your Ada have a very special bond, and it has brought him joy.  That is a miracle, Tilda!  You are helping him and we are grateful.   Celeborn and I care about your Ada very much._
> 
> _I would like to travel to Dale and see you, but that must wait until I am strong enough for such a long journey, my dear.  In the meantime, I will continue to look forward to our letters._
> 
> _Affectionately,_
> 
> _Galadriel_
> 
> _P.S.  I think “Little Bean” is a sweet name._

***************

**To Hannah from Daeron:**  

 

> _Dear Hannah:_
> 
> _I would love to pretend your news did not devastate me, but I must thank you for it.  I admit to sinking in despair, but it did not last long, and I have Marchwarden Haldir to thank for that._
> 
> _He stayed up with me all night, and talked me through the worst of it, and though it is a struggle, I am determined to continue to focus on my job here, and not lose hope._
> 
> _Even if my hopes are dashed with Rhian, I need to seek out the Valar’s purpose for me, and go where that leads.  It is not easy but, as Lord Percy says, “Put one foot in front of the other.”_
> 
> _Thank you, my dear friend, for keeping my secret, and allowing Rhian to find her own path.  More than anything, I want her happiness, even if it is not with me._
> 
> _Please do not think that was easy to write; it was devastating, but she has been through so much pain and heartache that for me to wish otherwise would be selfish._ _Please tell me how your practice progresses.  Ermon has written to me of those children from Harad, and he has found my notes useful, and should you need further advice, please write._
> 
> _Be well, dear Hannah.  And I pray that soon we will be working side-by-side once more!_
> 
> _With much affection,_
> 
> _Daeron_

***************

 **To Ermon and Elénaril:**  

 

> _My Dear friends!_
> 
> _What joyous news is this? TWINS?_
> 
> _May all the blessings of Eru and the Valar be upon both of you and your two little ones.  I eagerly anticipate meeting them, and may your little boy be as patient as his father, and your little girl be as gifted and strong-willed as you!_
> 
> _You will make a wonderful mother, Elénaril, and I have no doubt you will have to work hard to keep Ermon from spoiling them!_
> 
> _This blessing could not happen to a nicer couple, and I wish you every joy._
> 
> _Blessings to you both,_
> 
> _Daeron_

 

***************

**To Indis from Daeron:**  

 

> _Suilad, Gwanur Indis:_
> 
> _I am pleased to hear Lord Thranduil has asked you to treat these children I have heard so much about.  There are so many horrors those from the world of Men face, that we should be thankful we were made differently._
> 
> _They are in good hands, I know, for I have seen you work miracles with the Elves who struggle with trauma and grief.  I have no doubt these children will bounce back as much as they are able._
> 
> _I have noticed from my many years working in old Dale, that children of Men have a remarkable ability to accept the world as it is presented to them.  This gives many of them a resilience that is not often found in adults of that race.  Still, they must be nurtured carefully, and there is no one better suited for the task._
> 
> _Please, Aunt; look after yourself, Uncle Ómar, and especially look after my wonderful cousin._
> 
> _Love always,_
> 
> _Daeron_

***************

 **To Rhian from Daeron:**  

 

> _Dear Rhian:_
> 
> _I received your package and cannot tell you how much I appreciate this picture of little Darryn.  It is hard to believe he is not an infant anymore!  He is absolutely beautiful, and I must write to King Thranduil and thank him._
> 
> _I hope you are well, and that you enjoy your new job.  You are an intelligent girl, and this will utilize the gifts you were born with._
> 
> _I cannot write more, as I must leave to see patients in another village, but please give Darryn my love, and send my best to Ben._
> 
> _Your friend,_
> 
> _Daeron_

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Ídhron gi phuithad,_ _Hervenn nîn –_ I want to fuck you, my love.

 _Ídhron cened i chent gîn n'i gellog_ – I want to see your eyes when you come.

 _Áse apsene, nilmo.  Nán Thranduil ar veru ná Bard_ – Forgive him, my friend.  I am Thranduil, and this is Bard.

 _Ehtë Raumo_ – (Q.) Lightning Bolt  (lit. “Storm Spear”) Sometimes, when an Elf first encounters his or her bond-mate, they can feel a powerful, emotional response, like lightning.  (It doesn’t always happen – Thranduil felt it when he first saw Mírelen, but she did not return his feelings at first.)

 _Pen-'ur pen-channas!_ – Heartless idiot!

 _Suilad_ _Ettā Thranduil –_ Greetings, Cousin Thranduil

 _Suilad,_ _Gwador_ – Greetings, Sworn-brother

 

 **NOTES:**  

For an example of Sword and Dagger fighting, see:  <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=252xB_BdSXo>

 

[1] **_An Invincible Summer,_ Chapter 5:** “Then, in the year 2432 T.A. a man named Garon, the youngest brother of the Prince of Dol Amroth, came into the area and established the Kingdom of Dale…” <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/33048123>

 

[2] Mithrellas was a Silvan Elf who, according the tradition of the House of Angelimir, accompanied Nimrodel from Lothlórien on her journey to the southern havens. Mithrellas, it is said, became lost in the woods of Dor-en-Ernil, where she was found by Imrazôr the Númenórean, who married her. So Elvish blood entered the line of the Princes of Dol Amroth, it was claimed, and her son Galador became the first of the long line of Princes. Mithrellas also bore Imrazôr a daughter, Gilmith.   <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Mithrellas>

[3] **_“And Winter Came,”_ Chapter 21:**  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026709/chapters/29736558>

 

[4] **From _The Book of Lost Tales; Volume 1,_ J. R.R. Tolkien, pg. 260:  ** “that was the day of Turuhalmë or the Log-drawing. "Twill be a fitting day,' saith Lindo, 'for the sports of the morning in the snow and the gathering of the logs from the woods and the songs and drinking of Turuhalmë will leave us of right mood to listen to old tales beside this fire. ...and the company from Mar Vanwa Tyaliéva went into the snowy woods to bring back firewood on sleighs.

Never was the Tale-fire allowed to go out or to die into grey ash, but on the eve of Turuhalmë it sank always to a smaller blaze until Turuhalmë itself, when great logs were brought into the Room of the Tale-fire and being blessed by Lindo with ancient magic roared and flared anew upon the hearth.”

 

[5] In 2509 T.A., Elrond’s wife was captured, tortured, and stabbed with a poisoned knife.  She never recovered, was sent to Valinor, where she awaits her husband.   <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Celebrian>

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kings celebrate their first anniversary, and Thranduil realizes Bard wasn’t the only one who was changed after their joining.
> 
> Everyone enjoys themselves at the Yule Dance, but Rhian’s getting a bit fed up.
> 
> It’s the Eve of Turuhalmë, the Tale-Telling, and everyone gathers with their families.  Thranduil has special gifts for Tauriel and his children with Bard.    Bowen finds that his heart is beginning to heal a bit.

 

 

“It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are still alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger for them.”

― **George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss**

****

**City of Dale, 16th of December 2942 T.A.**

When King Bard had announced plans to hold the Dale’s First Annual Yule celebrations, a schedule of events had been posted all over the city, and the Dale Folk and their Dwarven and Elven counterparts crowded around the postings with great curiosity.  After two solemn and emotional Remembrances to honor their fallen, it was time to celebrate with those who had survived.

Hilda as usual, rolled up her sleeves and went to work, and said a prayer of thanks just about every day for her new Aide.  Now, there’s a girl who knew how to get things done! 

It was early afternoon, and Hilda, Bard, and Rhian were standing in the Great Hall, discussing plans for the Yule Ball which would take place next week.  Rhian had come up with the idea to turn the Dance into a fundraiser, to help support the Widows and Orphans. 

“It’s a season of giving, and what better cause?” she reasoned. “I know the City’s got funds set aside, but this is a way for Dale to look after their own.”

“That’s brilliant, Rhian, really.” Bard told her, and Hilda nodded her agreement. “Looks like you’ve got things in hand, so just tell me where and when I’m supposed to show up, yeah?”

“Sure thing, love.  Leave it to us.”

Bard kissed Hilda on the cheek, just as Percy came up to them.  “Bard, your Elf wants you.”

“Oh? Where is he?” Bard hadn’t seen him all morning.

“In the courtyard,” Percy answered, handing him his fur-lined cloak and riding gloves.

Bard took the items with a confused look, but Percy just grinned and pointed to the big double-doors.  “Get going.”

Bard pinned his cloak, and walked outside, to find Thranduil astride _Naurmôr_ with _Fînlossen_ saddled and ready.

“What’s all this?”

“You will find out,” Thranduil smiled.  “Follow me.”

Bard pretty much knew where they were headed, when Thranduil led them through the South Gate.  Still they enjoyed the ride, and the sight of the snowy woods. 

 But he was surprised when they reached the Hunting Lodge they had visited three weeks before.

“It would have been nice do the work ourselves, _Meleth nîn_ , but I wanted to make sure we had a place to celebrate our anniversary.  I hope you are not disappointed.”

Somehow, his Elf had managed to restore it to habitable status, with a new roof, new windows, and a new front porch, complete with two wooden chairs.

“Oh, I’m not disappointed at all,” Bard said with wonder in his voice.  “I love it! How did you manage it?”

“I asked Ben to take a look at it, then arrange for some work crews to get it ready.” He pointed a black gloved hand toward the shed in the back.  “We have a place to shelter the horses, and there is wood for the fireplace and it is stocked with food, and some extra clothes.”

They dismounted and led their stallions to the small barn, which had been stocked with straw, hay and enough feed to last for a few days.

“Come,” Thranduil took his hand eagerly.  “I want to show you the rest.”

He led Bard through the front door and stopped.  “What do you think?”

“Oh…” 

The interior had been swept, scrubbed and furnished.  The stone walls had also been cleaned, fireplace repaired, and a cheery blaze gave the large room a wonderful glow, along with several lamps on the walls.  There was an iron crane, with a hook on the end to attach a kettle and swing it over the flames, and several other utensils were hanging on the wall.    There was a cupboard, that looked to be stocked with food and water, a table and chairs and the bed in the corner was newly-made with several colorful quilts, and Bard saw two thick robes hanging on the hooks by the dresser, which he assumed held a few changes of clothes.

“Do you like it, Bard?”  Thranduil asked uncertainly. 

“I…  absolutely love it.”  Bard blinked a few times to clear his eyes.  He put his arms around his Elf and held him tight.  “This is a wonderful anniversary present!”

Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief.  “I was hoping you would not be angry we did not do the work ourselves.”

“That would have been nice, but to be realistic, it would have taken us years to finish.  This,” Bard kissed him, “is so much better.”

They both had been frantically busy lately, and had only made love once since Thranduil had returned from his monthly trip to his Kingdom, and that had been two weeks ago.  Since then, they had been getting up earlier and going to bed later, to get things done, to not neglect time with their children.  They both needed a rest.

“I have arranged for us to be here for three days, and the Guardians will alert if there is an emergency.”

“Three days? You mean, the children knew about this?  And Hilda?”

“They do, and I admire them for keeping it a secret.  Everyone knows, although only Hilda, Galion and Percy know precisely where we are.”  Thranduil kissed behind his ear.  “The bed is new,” he whispered.

“So, I see…”  Bard smirked, then undid the clasp on Thranduil’s cloak.  “Shall we try it out?”

“If you insist.”  The Elf had his cloak off before he could blink, and within minutes, and amidst many kisses and caresses, they were both naked and tumbling on the bed.

“Ohhhh…  I like this…”. Bard’s eyes closed, as he enjoyed the feel of his Elf against him. 

“You said we should take time, to lie around naked on a regular basis,” Thranduil whispered in his ear, “and I do not plan on putting clothes on again until we have to leave.”

“So, who’s going to bring in more wood?”  Bard stroked the Elf’s hair, then massaged down his back.  “Last time I checked, the privy was 25 feet away.  It’s cold out there.”

“But it’s warm in here.” Thranduil nipped at his shoulder, “Pay attention, Bowman; I am trying ravish you.”

Before Bard could respond, he found himself on his stomach as the Elf nipped down his spine, massaged his buttocks, and reached between his legs to rub his entrance.   Bard moaned, drew his knees up and raised his behind to encourage the Elf to tease him open.

He closed his eyes, and heard a cork being pulled from a bottle.  Did Thranduil bring it with them, or was it already here?  It didn’t matter, as he felt oiled fingers slick his insides, then expertly massage that glorious bundle of nerves.

“Ahh…” he breathed, and gasped when Thranduil stroked him inside and out. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” he heard Thranduil whisper, as an oiled cock slowly entered him. The Elf groaned, and dug his fingers into his hips, and Bard’s cock convulsed as he felt his husband’s pleasure, along as his own. 

The Elvenking went slowly, wanting it all to last, because they both reveled at the unhurried hours ahead of them.  There was no one outside the door waiting for them, no schedule, _nothing_ but the two of them.

“I love how you feel inside,” Thranduil breathed, and his hips began to thrust harder. “You are always so hot…”

“Mmmm…. Aah!” Bard cried out as his prostate was stroked.  He tried to tell his Elf how good it felt, but all he could manage were small cries every time Thranduil’s cock brushed past it, in and out, in and out…. His cries became louder, and rapid, as his husband’s pace quickened and began to slam into him, and Bard raised up on all fours to meet his thrusts.

“Touch me, love,” he gasped.  “Gods, please, touch me!”

Thranduil snarled and grabbed his hair to pull his head back, then reached around for his rock-hard length, and began to stroke him in time with his thrusts.  They both were crying out with abandon with each movement.

“I love you so much, Bard.” He said in his ear, then bit down on his shoulder with a growl, as he came, with the Bowman following four strokes later.

They continued to move, enjoying the aftershocks, until Thranduil collapsed on top of Bard with a sigh.

 

***************

 

It was just before dawn, when Thranduil rolled over in bed and smiled, as he watched his husband sleep. 

They had spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in bed, as they made love, ate a leisurely dinner, and laughed and talked.  Despite his earlier declaration, they did dress again, but only long enough to use the outdoor privy, bring in more wood for the fire, and check the horses.  But the minute they got back into the lodge, off came the clothes again, and they crawled in bed.

Bard murmured something, and rolled over on his back.   His mouth was slightly open, and his hands rested on his stomach as his chest rose and fell, and the golden glow from the fire illuminated the hair on his chest.

Thranduil reached over to run his fingers lightly through it, and remembered the first time he had seen Bard’s completely naked body on their wedding night.   He had stood before him, naked and unashamed, strong and muscular, with wide shoulders, narrower hips, powerful thighs, and all that glorious hair…  The Elf was fascinated, and completely aroused at the sight.  He had the same reaction, every time he watched his Bowman’s body…

His cocked twitched, as he thought about their wedding night, and how magical it had been.  Their first coupling was…  he closed his eyes and smiled, as he realized he still couldn’t put it into words.

“Morning, love,” his Bowman whispered roughly.

Thranduil met his sleepy eyes, and smiled.  “I was just looking at all your hair.”

“I see.  So, you’re not sick of sleeping with a Warg yet?”

“Not at all.  I love to look at you.”  Thranduil reached over and kissed him.   “Happy Anniversary, _Meleth nîn_.”

“Happy Anniversary.”  Bard smiled and sat up.  “Hold that thought, love.” 

He rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes and boots.  “I realize there are advantages to keeping the necessary away from the house, but I can’t think of any when I have to go out into the cold first thing in the morning.”  Bard grabbed the empty kettle, bent down and kissed him again.  “I’ll take care of business, and get us water from the river for tea, and see to the horses.  Be right back.”

“I will be here,” the Elf grinned.  “I will see to breakfast.”

While Bard was outdoors, Thranduil got up, wrapped himself in his robe, and set out the bread, butter, honey and cheese and poured cider into two of the cups.  Then he put some more wood on the fire and stirred the coals until it was blazing brightly.

“Bloody fuck!” Bard blew into the room with a shiver.  “It’s really coming down out there, and the wind’s blowing.”

Thranduil stood up and looked out the window, and the whirling snow.  “I hope someone thought to provide a shovel.  I did not think of it.”

“There’s a shovel in the barn; we’ll use that to make a path to the privy and clean off the porch later.”  Bard handed the kettle to Thranduil, who put in on the hook, then swung it over the flames to heat.  “I didn’t even have to go to the creek; I just filled it up with snow.  Hang on a minute.”  He grabbed the pitcher and bowl from the wash stand, dumped out the dirty water, then filled them with more snow to melt for later.

“That is good thinking,” Thranduil smiled.  “Are the horses all right?”

“Nice and snug.  Ben did a good job with all this.  I was wondering where he was at over the last couple of weeks,” Bard grinned and looked around.  “I’m so glad you did this for me, Thranduil.”

“I did it for _us,_ Bard.”  The Elf sat down and filled their plates.  “It is perfect for quick, private getaways, and it is wonderful to throw off our crowns and just be ourselves.  As much as I love our living quarters at the Palace, and the Castle, we are always Kings there, with duty and responsibility looming around every corner.”

Bard had shed his cloak and boots and sat down to eat.  “Mmmm,” he took a bite of the bread with honey.  “I’m so hungry…   Did you sleep much, love?”

“Only as much as you let me,” the Elf grinned.  “The food is very good,” as he took another bite of cheese. 

“Do you remember what we had to eat at our wedding feast?”  Bard asked.

“Not at all, though please do not tell Galion that; it would hurt his feelings.”

“I don’t remember either.  I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“It was the same with me.  I was excited to be married, and I doubt I ate much.”

“You weren’t nervous?”  Bard asked.

“Very much, but not about marrying you.  Tauriel was so pleased, and Sigrid's eyes were shining, and Bain..." Thranduil was thoughtful.  "I wanted to be a good father to your children, Bard, and I knew I would do my utmost, but that does not guarantee our family could be happy in the long run.  But that day..."  he smiled, "it was wonderful.  Especially to see Tilda excited after she had suffered so."

“She was so cute, wasn’t she?” Bard grinned.  “She was thrilled, and I think our wedding helped her get over her shock, don’t you?  It helped all of us.”

“I love our family, Bard; I only wish Legolas could come home and be a part of it.”

Bard reached over and grabbed his hand.  “I know, love.  And he will someday; I’m sure of it.  I doubt he’s even made it to Rivendell yet, so he doesn’t even know your book is waiting for him.”

“You are right…” Thranduil sighed wistfully. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure you can. What’s up?”

 “It is funny…  since I have married you, time feels… _different._   When I threw Thorin in the dungeons, I said, ‘A hundred years is a blink of an eye to an Elf,’ and it was true, but since you and I married, it feels like time has slowed down to a crawl.”

“Really?”  Bard looked concerned.  “I don’t feel different in that respect.  The days feel the same to me.”

“My days seem longer, but in a good way…  Life does not feel the same to me.”

Bard wiped his mouth, then put his elbows on the table.  “Maybe I wasn’t the only one who changed when we joined, love.  Maybe this is something _you_ have received from _me._  Do you think?”

 The Elf considered this.  “If what I have noticed is true, then I am happy, because I now have three Mortal children, and dear friends in Hilda and Percy.  They will leave us, and maybe the Valar has gifted me with this sense of time to appreciate every day with them.” His throat tightened.  “It would be the best gift, because I love them so much.”

Bard got up, and went over to put his arm around his husband.  “It is, isn’t it?”

Thranduil put his arms around Bard’s waist and hugged him.  “I still do not know why I deserve all this, after the way I behaved towards Legolas and Tauriel.”

“Oh, I do,” the Bowman said with a grin.  “You were blessed with a determined wife, who would not rest until you were happy again.  She must have pounded on the gates of Manwë’s Palace until he gave in, just to shut her up.”  Bard smiled down at Thranduil.  “She’s a stubborn lass, and I’m grateful.”

“Bard?” Thranduil asked softly, with a suddenly serious look.  “May I ask you something?”

“Anything, love.  You know that.”

“Do you ever regret becoming Immortal?”

It would have been easy for Bard to immediately say no, but he knew if he did, Thranduil would doubt him, and feel unsure.  He sat down again, and took the time to consider his Elf’s query.

“I did wonder a couple of times, especially when I struggled to relearn how to shoot and handle a sword.  But wondering isn’t the same thing as wishing, love.  That was only when I doubted _myself_.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t think I was living up to it.”  Bard sighed.  “I think that was why I blew up at you in your Garden last February.  The bottom of all that was my own fear and frustration.”

“For my part,” Thranduil mused, “I wonder what it would be like if I had chosen Mortality.”

Bard shook his head and smiled.  “We _both_ would have hated that.  You’d be miserable at aging, and would never forgive yourself for abandoning your people, and that would have come between us, in the end.  You also couldn’t have tolerated it physically; did you ever think of that?  You have injuries, and I’m not sure you could keep up your glamour.  What kind of a life would you have had with such constant pain?”

“That is true.” He smiled. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Bard took his hand and kissed it.  “I’m glad I married you, love.  And I know, _down to my bones,_ I made the right choice.  Don’t doubt that for a second.” Then he gave Thranduil a wicked grin. “At least this way, we’ve got the “Elf Thing.”

Thranduil stood up and pulled Bard over to the bed and removed his clothes and urged them under the covers again.   They didn’t make love right away, but held each other as they talked about what this past year has meant for each of them.

 

***************

 

 **City of Dale, 25 th of December 2942 T.A.** 

Tonight, the Yule Ball was in full swing.  The musicians played lively music and the Elves were showing off some of their precise elaborate dances, then the Dwarves got up to demonstrate their lively jigs, and the skirts swirled on the ladies of Dale, as they danced and sang and laughed.

The food was wonderful, with the traditional Pot Luck, and Hilda had the Great Hall decorated with greenery and red ribbons everywhere, and the Ale and Wine flowed freely.

Bard and Thranduil danced with each other, then their daughters, and even Hilda was taken around the floor fairly often, when they could drag her away from her duties.  Ben danced with Rhian, with Darryn between them, until Thranduil grabbed the baby and carried him around for a while. 

Evan danced with the Princesses, Hilda and several times with Rhian, much to Turamarth’s consternation.  

When the Elf asked Rhian to dance, the music slowed down, which made it easier for him to talk to her.

“Are you happy spending time with Evan?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking.  “Is he treating you well?”

“Oh, yes.”  Rhian assured him.  “You needn’t worry; he’s a perfect gentleman.” 

“He is not pressuring you in any way?”  Tur knew he was entering dicey territory, but he _had_ to know.  “Are you comfortable with him?”

“Why does _everyone_ keep asking me that?  Evan hasn’t even tried to kiss me, except on the cheek, so _what is the problem?”_

Turamarth sighed.  “I am sorry, Rhian.  I know we are perhaps over-protective…”

“’Perhaps?’  _Perhaps?_ You’re all paranoid!”

“…but no one wants to see you hurt, after all you have been through –“

The girl stiffened and stepped away from him.  “Come here.” She grabbed his arm and led him over to a corner of the Great Hall.  “So… you _still_ see me as ‘broken?’  Like I’m still made of glass, or that I’m too _ignorant_ to know what I’m doing?”

“Rhian…”

“You’re right Tur; I _have_ been through a lot.  In fact, I am the ‘oldest’ twenty-one-year—old I know.  But I wish everyone would stop seeing me as this stupid, fragile girl who will jump off a bridge if someone doesn’t stop me!”

“Please, Rhian,” Tur tried to backpedal.  “You must understand; Daeron has asked me to look out for you while he is gone, and I am trying to take my promise seriously.  Ben is simply behaving like a good father, and as for myself and the others,” he smiled, “we feel like big brothers.  It is our job to make sure you are cherished the way you deserve.”

“Well, I know Evan likes me, and I like him, but I don’t know that he cherishes me, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s great to spend time with, but so far, _that’s all it is,_ _and I want it that way!”_   Rhian stamped her foot.  “My only experience with men was Phylip who didn’t like me, and Garth, and we all know what he was!    

“I’m trying to learn how to be around people, without being afraid all the time.  How am I supposed to do that, with this ‘army,’” she waved her hands, “scaring everyone off?  How I am supposed to learn to trust my own judgement, _if you won’t let me?”_  She gave him a pointed look.  “Don't you get it? I need to know I can handle things or I will never stop being afraid!” She stomped her foot again.  "I keep up with the self-defense classes with Tauriel, and I _know_ that I’m not helpless, and I won’t be, _ever again,_ do you understand? 

“So…  your friendship with Evan is… a test?” Tur asked her. 

“Tur!  You're making it sound like I'm using him, and that's just not true!” she stood still as the music stopped.  “I’m not thinking about marrying him, and I don’t know if he’s thinking about that either.  I’m just spending time with him and having fun.”

Turamarth smiled down at her, “I hope you will find love with the right person, Rhian.  Until then, I cannot stop acting as your protector with sharp swords.” He laughed.  “Should any Man, Elf, or Dwarf, cause you pain, he will be introduced to them.”

Rhian grinned and gave him a hug.  “I think you’ll have to get in line.   I love you for it, really, but do _**you**_ understand why this is important to me?”

“I think I do." 

Rhian sighed.  “If Daeron were here, he’d be a hundred times worse than you, but I miss him.”

“So, do I.”  Tur released her.  “Has he written you?”

 “He did, but it was such a short note, and, I don’t know… _different.”_

“Perhaps he was busy?” Tur honestly didn’t know what to say.

“He thanked me for the painting of Darryn, which was nice, but… he was so… impersonal, and it just wasn’t the same…”  she shook her head and laughed a little. “I don’t know why it bothers me; I’m just being silly.  You’re right, though; he was getting ready to leave for a nearby village.”

A small flame of hope flickered in Turamarth’s heart, but he wanted to be careful.  “At this time of the year, it is natural to think of our friends and loved ones, and to keep them in our prayers.”

 They went over to the table where Ben was sitting with Darryn in his lap, talking to Gruffudd.  Tur greeted the older men, tickled Darryn under his chin, then walked over to the big doors to step outside and look up at the stars.  

He said a prayer of thanks for his life, and all he loved, then he prayed earnestly to Varda and all the Valar that the hopes of his _Gwador_ would be granted.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 27 th of December 2942 T.A.**

It was the Eve of Turuhalmë or the Log-drawing,[1] the final day of the Yule celebrations.  Tomorrow night, the big Yule Log would blaze brightly in the firepit of the Great Hall for the Telling of Tales.  This was a favorite tradition of Thranduil’s since childhood, and several Elves and Dwarves had been scheduled to tell stories of the long history of their people.  Some of the older Men of Dale would share the history of Men as well.

But that was tomorrow.  Tonight, was a time for each family to gather in front of their own hearths to share their favorite memories of the past year, and to exchange gifts with one another.

In the Castle, everyone was comfortable in the Lounge with the fire going and with cakes and wine and cider for the children.  Bard had even allowed Sigrid to have a small glass of wine – watered down, of course.

“So, who starts?” Bain asked eagerly.

“Why don’t you, son?  What was your favorite memory this year?” Bard smiled.  “Then we’ll go around the room, how’s that?”

“Okay.” Bain thought a minute.  “My favorite was when _Ada_ and Daeron sparred in the arena at the Palace!  That was amazing!”

“Thank you,” Thranduil smiled.  “Daeron is a worthy opponent, to be sure.  You are next, Sigrid.”

“I think I liked it best when I got to help Darryn be born.  It was scary, but…  wonderful!  I knew for sure I wanted to be a Healer, and I was excited.”  She smiled into the fire.  “What about you, Da?”

“For me, there’s no question:  I’ll never forget you children coming back to Dale, last May.  I watched you hug Tauriel and _Ada_ , and thanked the Valar for making us into a real family.”  His eyes began to shine a little.  “I think that will always be special.”

Sigrid looked up at her Da from her cushion on the floor and squeezed his hand.  “I loved that, too.”

“Galion?  I think you’re next.”

The Aide was sitting with Tauriel, and had his arm around her shoulder, as she leaned against him.   “I believe my memory was on the same day, as _Gwinïg_ first saw us.  Her face was alight with a joy I had not seen in a very long time.” He kissed her red hair.  “It was a beautiful sight.”

“I remember that day, too.  I had missed you all so much, and could not stop crying.” Tauriel smiled.  “I had a new family, and we could all finally be together again.   But I must tell you, my favorite memory is when _Ada_ woke up from his sleep after saving Bard.  You called me your daughter – “

“And you are, _Gwinïg_.”

“You told me you loved me, and…”  Tauriel smiled.  “It was wonderful.”

“Auntie Hil?” Tilda leaned her head onto Thranduil’s chest.  “It’s your turn, then Uncle Percy, then _Ada_ , then me!”

“All right, Beanie.  Let’s see…  Well, I don’t like to think about when you were so sick, lovey, but boy…  when Daeron came out of your room to tell us you were going to be all right…  it was wonderful!  But what I loved most about that time was how all you kids supported each other, and worked together to help her get well.  I was so proud!  You put up with a lot, but _not one_ of you complained _,_ acted jealous or got impatient with it.”

“What about me?” Tilda asked. 

“I was proud of you, too!  How hard did _you_ have to work to get better?  You still haven’t given up, and as much as we have to remind you not to push yourself, we’re all glad you _want to,_ lovey.  You’ll never be one of those lazy Princesses, who sits around and wants everyone to do for you.”

Tilda sighed.  “Bain’s going to be King, and Sigrid’s going to be a Healer, but I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, yet.”

“No one says you have to know, _Tithen Pen_ ,” Thranduil stroked her hair.  “But when you do, we all know you will work hard at it.”

“Okay.  Thanks Auntie Hil.”

“Thank you, Auntie,” Sigrid got up and kissed her.  “You’re the best.”

“Yeah, thanks, Auntie Hil.” Bain grinned.  “I was grateful for Rhys, too.”

“So was I, love.” Hilda nodded, then poked Percy.  “Your turn.”

The Steward made a big show of rubbing his chin, “Let’s see…  Well, I dropped a hammer on my big toe, I was really happy when the black nail fell off and the new toenail grew in again…”

All the kids groaned, and Sigrid threw her pillow at him.  “Ew!”

“All right, all right…   Well, I had a good time visiting with you all at the Palace.” He kissed Hilda’s cheek.  “I missed my best girl.”

“Aww…” Tilda said.  “ _Ada_?   What about you?”

“I think I shall let you go first, _Tithen Pen_.” 

“Okay.  Well…  _I loved it_ when I got Charlotte back, and all those nice clothes for her, but was that too long ago, or should I pick something that happened later?” She brightened, “Ooh!  I know!  I loved how you and Uncle Galion got scared when I lost my baby teeth!”

“And Da got so sick…”  Bain snickered.

“And Hilda had to come and talk to us,” Tauriel laughed.  “Sigrid and Bard were so funny that night.”[2]

Sigrid giggled.  “ _Ada_ was so cute, when he got worried.”

Bard rolled his eyes.  “Your poor Ada was scared out of his wits.” 

“About what?” Bain asked, looking around.  “What was so funny?”

“Never you mind,” Hilda said.  “It’s a ‘girl thing.’”

 “Your turn, _Ada!”_ Tilda looked up at him. 

“It is.”   Thranduil got up.  “Excuse me; I will be right back.”

“Where’s he going?”  Bain asked.  

“Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Bard shrugged.

The Elvenking soon returned with several packages, wrapped in cloth and string, then handed a large, flat one to Sigrid.

“Open this first, _Iellig,_ before the others.”

Sigrid looked at _Ada_ curiously, and Tilda sat on the floor beside her as she undid the strings, then unfolded the cloth.

“Oh…”  Sigrid covered her mouth with both hands.  “Oh, my goodness…”  Her eyes filled with tears.

“Who’s that, Sig?” Tilda looked at the picture.  

“It’s…” she sobbed out.   “It’s Mam!  This is our Mam, Til!”

 “My lands!” Hilda said, as she buried her nose in her handkerchief.  “Look at her!  That’s exactly what she looked like, when you two got married!”

“Da?  Did you know about this?”  Sigrid asked Bard, half-fearing he might be upset.

“I did,” he assured her. “Your mother was wearing that exact dress when I first met her.”

Tilda’s eyes got big.  “That’s my Mam?” The little girl couldn’t stop staring, and everyone in the room was mesmerized as they watched her.  She reverently ran her fingers over the curves and lines of her face, and took it all in.  “It’s really her…  That’s really my Mam...  _She was really real!”_

“She was, Little Bean, and she loved you all very much.” Bard’s voice was rough, and he had to clear his throat.

There were smaller copies, for everyone else.  He had even made one for Bard, to put on the mantle in their bedchamber, to keep next to his picture of Mírelen and the rest of the children.

“Where in the world did you find this, Thranduil?” Percy asked, still visibly moved.

“This original was painted by Mattie’s great-aunt, who lived in Rohan.  Her family sent it to the Lord of Dorwinian, who had made inquiries at my request.”

“You mean, _you_ hunted for this?” Bain was incredulous.  “Did you know, Da?”

“No.  _Ada_ wrote to Lord Brandis while you were all at the Palace, but he showed it to me when it first arrived.”

“I did.  Your Aunt’s family wishes you to keep the original.  Da and I thought you should have it, Sigrid, because you had the most memories of her, and because you resemble her so closely.” Thranduil explained.  “We can have it installed in your room after the holidays, if that is what you wish.”

Instantly, the girl was off the floor and into her _Ada’s_ arms.  “Thank you, _Ada; t_ his is the best present!  I love you.”

“I love you, too, _Brennil Iell.”_ The Elvenking kissed the top of her head. 

Then he turned toward Tauriel.  “I have something for you, too, _Gwinïg_.  Tonight, is a night for good memories, and I wanted you to be given some, as well.”

“ _Ada?”_ Tauriel sat up with a confused look on her face, as she took the package Thranduil handed to her.  “What is this?”

“Open it, and you will see.”

“Open it!” Tilda crawled up beside her on the couch.  “Hurry!”

Still looking puzzled, Tauriel unwrapped it to find a wooden box, with a letter on top. 

“What does the letter say?”  Bain asked eagerly, still clutching his picture like the treasure it was.

Tauriel lifted the flap on the envelope, pulled out the letter, and began to read aloud:

 

> _To Thranduil Oropherion, King of the Woodland Realm,_
> 
> _My Lord Thranduil,_
> 
> _In answer to your inquiries about Neldor and Solana, the birth parents of Tauriel, I did know them very well, as Neldor and I had been friends since childhood.  They were fine and honorable Elves, talented craftsmen, and were a credit to their village, as well as your Kingdom._
> 
> _My Lord, you were correct in assuming her age as seven years, when you found her.  My wife and I fondly remember attending several celebrations for Tauriel on her Begetting Day which was the 3 rd of August 2323 T.A._
> 
> _I hope this information is helpful to you, as I am honored to serve at the pleasure of my King._
> 
> _With humble regards,_
> 
> _Levos Aidurion, a Cooper of the Woodland Realm_
> 
> _P.S. I have enclosed several letters addressed to Lady Tauriel, in which I, and many of our friends, have written down their memories of her birth parents.  If it pleases you My Lord, we would ask you to present it to her as a gift._
> 
>  

Tauriel’s fingers trembled, as she rested her hand on the beautiful carved box.  “Did you make this, _Ada_?”

“I did, _Gwinïg_ , but I think the real treasure is inside.” He smiled down at her.

“OPEN IT!” Tilda squealed, bouncing with excitement.  “Hurry!”

Bard got up and picked up Tilda.  “Come on, Little Bean,” he whispered, soothingly.  “Let’s let Tauriel do this in her own time, yeah?”

The Elf took a deep breath and opened the box, to find it packed with letters, all tied up with a blue ribbon.  This was her _history_ , her link to the parents that loved her and gave their lives, so she could be safe.

“Can I…”  she looked up apologetically.

Thranduil bent down and kissed her brow.  “Of course,  _Gwinïg_.  You can read them in private, and take as much time as you like.”

Tauriel was beyond words, and began to cry.  Thranduil pulled her up and gathered her to him, and rubbed her back, as he whispered endearments in Sindarin.

The gift-giving didn’t stop there.  Tilda presented everyone with small, clay bowls clearly made by childish hands and been painted and glazed with bright colors.

“It’s to put on your dresser and keep stuff!” Tilda said eagerly.  “Do you like them?  _Ada_ helped me, and we took them to the Potter, so he could cook them!”

“He _fired_ them, _Tithen Pen,”_ Thranduil corrected her, as, of course,  everyone praised her efforts and promised to put them to good use.

“My turn!” Sigrid got up and brought her packages for everyone, and Hilda and Tauriel were given lace shawls, knitted with extra thin, gossamer yarn.

“It’s so delicate!” Hilda marveled.  “Did you make this?”

“Mmm Hmm!  Glélindë helped us get the lace yarn, and met us at Rhian’s, to show us how to work the stitches!”

“Thank you,” Tauriel kissed her sister’s cheek.  “You have done a wonderful job on this.”

The men in the family were given new socks, done in different colors, which was received with much thanks, and Tilda was given a pretty hat, scarf and gloves.

“Ooh! I can use my fingers when I wear them!” She wiggled them to prove it to everyone.

Bain gave his fathers a dozen arrows that he fletched himself (under Turamarth’s close supervision), gave Sigrid a leather bag, and Tilda received a hood made of fox fur to keep her warm.  Hilda and Galion received new coin purses, and Uncle Percy got a new belt with a silver buckle.  He even made new collars for Thangon and Esta, which fit perfectly.

 “ _Ada_ ,” Tilda crawled into his lap, and looked up at him, “you never said what your favorite memory is!”

  The Elvenking smiled down at her, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  “Look around, _Tithen Pen_ ,” he whispered softly.  “What could be better than this?”

Then it was time for the Tale-Telling, and Galion, the eldest present, had been chosen.  He began the story of The Music of the Ainur, and soon, everyone was caught up in the wonder of it.

 

***************

 

Throughout Dale, others were celebrating in front of their hearths and telling Tales.  

Turamarth spent a quiet evening with his family.  Captain Ómar had come to visit his wife and son, and Adamar and Idril were gathered in his living room as they laughed and drank toasts on front of the fire, and thought about Daeron, and wished him well, as they recalled stories of their two children growing up.

~~~

Hannah was with her son and his family.  Her small granddaughter had fallen asleep in her arms, and her grandson looked up eagerly, as she told him stories about his Da when he was small.

~~~

Ermon and Elénaril did not go visiting, and enjoyed a rare night to themselves, after opening their gifts.  He had bought her a silver bracelet bearing two small stars with sapphires, for each of their children.  She laughed, when she saw it, because she had had a necklace made, with four gemstones, for each member of their new family.  This Yule, they told no Tales, but spent the evening snuggled before the fire, and shared their dreams and hopes for their new family.

~~~

Feren, Glélindë and Gruffudd enjoyed their little girls, Alis and Dafina, who loved to listen to Grandad talk about his daughter and son in law, and tell the girls about the nights they were born.

~~~

Rhian and Ben had invited Evan, who would otherwise be alone, to celebrate with them, and he had small gifts and a stuffed toy for Darryn, before he regaled them with stories of life in East Bight as a boy.  Rhian was enjoying herself, though she thought of her closest friend, who was far away, and wondered if he was enjoying himself, too.

~~~

Across town, on this same night, Anna and Daffyd were also helping their new family celebrate.  The children had been sent wonderful gifts by the Royal Family, and even Beriel received a nice big soup bone from the kitchens there.

The Tales told around their fire were of absent loved ones.  Anna and Daffyd spoke of many small memories of Owen and Ellyn, which now seemed so important: many of the small sayings of their Da, or the way Ellyn cooked, but could never make a decent pie crust to save her life.  Daffyd had lots of stories of his and Owen’s misadventures were growing up.  Then they spoke of the children, of Bowen’s first words, and the first time Maddox walked, and of their own son, Powell, and the time his head got stuck between the rails of the banister!

Bowen should have felt sad; maybe he would be when tomorrow came, but tonight he found himself smiling, and felt grateful for Anna and Daffyd, who loved them, and wanted to preserve the memories of his parents.  After everyone went to bed that night, the boy got up, put on his robe and went to the window, where for the first time in months, he began to talk to the stars.

“Thank you, Da,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I got mad at you.  I miss you all the time, but I want to be better, and be happy.  Look after Mam, and keeping watching over us, okay?”

There was no answer, of course, but a soft breeze surrounded him, though the window was closed.  When he felt a tingling sensation on his cheek, he smiled, and kept his hand there for a long time.

 

 

  

 

[1] **From _The Book of Lost Tales; Volume 1,_ J. R.R. Tolkien, pg. 260:  ** “that was the day of Turuhalmë or the Log-drawing. "Twill be a fitting day,' saith Lindo, 'for the sports of the morning in the snow and the gathering of the logs from the woods and the songs and drinking of Turuhalmë will leave us of right mood to listen to old tales beside this fire.' ... and the company from Mar Vanwa Tyaliéva went into the snowy woods to bring back firewood on sleighs.

Never was the Tale-fire allowed to go out or to die into grey ash, but on the eve of Turuhalmë it sank always to a smaller blaze until Turuhalmë itself, when great logs were brought into the Room of the Tale-fire and being blessed by Lindo with ancient magic roared and flared anew upon the hearth.”

 

 

[2] _What Makes a King,_ Ch. 27:  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/26722278>

 


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the winter, Daeron and the Elves of Lothlórien work themselves to exhaustion to fight a terrible plague that has swept through the region.  Can he prevent another one?
> 
> According to Tennyson, Spring is when a young man’s fancies “turns to thoughts of love.”  Such is the case for a member of our little family, and Bain doesn’t handle it well at all, Percy is sorry he missed it, and Tilda is thrilled.
> 
> And…  Dáin was right.  The Boss and his cronies are not giving up without a fight…
> 
>  

 

 

 “To crave and to have are like as a thing and its shadow. For when does a berry break upon the tongue as sweetly as when one longs to taste it, and when is the taste refracted into so many hues and savors of ripeness and earth, and when do our senses know anything so utterly as when we lack it? And here again is a foreshadowing -- the world will be made whole. For to wish for a hand on one's hair is all but to feel it. So, whatever we may lose, very craving gives it back to us again.”

** ― Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping **

 

 

**Lothlórien, 16 th of March 2943 T.A.**

Since that night Daeron spent talking and drinking with Haldir, he hardly had time to worry or even contemplate over his uncertain future, as the winter for him passed in a frenzy activity, both good and bad. 

~o0o~

> Just before Yule, the Lord and Lady’s grandsons arrived, and things really livened up.  Elladan and Elrohir were frequent guests at Haldir’s _talon_ and Daeron had little time for melancholy, when so many nights were spent with wine and laughter.  Even Haldir loosened up, which pleased the Guardian immensely.  It wasn’t hard to see twins’ deep respect and regard for the Marchwarden, and decided it was there personal mission to lighten Haldir’s spirits whenever he could.
> 
> In light of what Haldir had told him of Itaril, it made sense, as they must have known her in Rivendell, and understood the Marchwarden’s grief, without speaking of it.  He also noticed neither of them mentioned her to Orophin, which spoke highly of their quality, despite their mischievous personalities.
> 
> And Arwen…  _Lady Arwen…  Elo!_
> 
> Elladan and Elrohir were Elf Lords with a stellar pedigree, but their sense of humor and easy manner made titles feel awkward.  But their sister, was the most beautiful _Elleth_ he had ever seen!  He couldn’t help but be tongue-tied around her, she was just that stunning!  Daeron felt ridiculous, because his feelings didn’t go beyond admiration, but still…  It was said she had the look of Lúthien, and if that was true, it was no wonder Beren fell in love with her at first sight!
> 
> Her soft, polite manner was the complete opposite of her rambunctious irreverent brothers, and made everyone want to trip over themselves to please her.  Daeron had wondered if being treated thus would breed an air of arrogance an anyone else, but Lady Arwen was warm, genuine, and had two siblings who kept her from taking herself too seriously.
> 
> As much as Daeron enjoyed their company, he had little time to spend in leisure since Yule, as an emergency situation arose which demanded his energies, and his name was taken off the rosters to work at the borders altogether.
> 
> A terrible Pox, which had started in December, swept through almost all of the villages within 70 miles, and his expertise was desperately needed.
> 
> Just after Yule, Daeron and his friend Penlod arrived at one such place, to a horrifying sight: many still lay dead in their beds, and those left were trying to care for themselves and others while crawling on their hands and knees, sick with fever.  It was a heartbreaking sight, and clearly, more hands were needed.
> 
> The Master Healer was summoned, and every Galadhrim with even a minor gift of Healing, was quickly educated in the treatment of this disease and the same protocols were used for Princess Tilda when she became sick: quarantines, the wearing of gowns for everyone, and gowns and masks for the humans and the strict rules of hygiene.[1]
> 
> The seamstresses quickly got to work making the gowns, and many, many others came along to assist with the immense amount of laundry required and to help see to the livestock.
> 
> Lord Celeborn organized troops to protect each village, the Elven volunteers were assigned to the towns to be supervised by one of the Healers.  The Elves spent weeks on end administering medicines, emptying privy pans and sadly, burning the bodies of the dead, to prevent further spread of the disease.  
> 
> The children of Elrond, well-versed in the Healing Arts, also volunteered their services, worked with the rest of them to render as much aid as they could. 
> 
> “Where is the pretty Lady?” One little boy asked after Arwen, as Daeron tried to feed him some bread and tea with medicine.
> 
> “She needed to go to another town that was sick.”
> 
> “Could you tell her I said thanks?”
> 
> “Of course, I will, child.” Daeron smiled.  “Now, do not waste Lady Arwen’s gift by not taking your medicine.  She wants you to get well again.”
> 
> “I don’t like it.”
> 
> “I know, but you must be a brave boy, and do your best.”  The little boy had little scabs all over him, but the Elves kept him covered with a lotion made from Neem leaves, to help them heal and they worked to prevent scarring.  His hands were covered with socks, to prevent him from scratching.
> 
> “Where’s my Mama?” He asked innocently.
> 
> _Ai… What to say?_   The boy wasn’t well enough yet to learn that the pox had claimed the life of his mother and two younger sisters, before the Elves arrived.  His father was still suffering from the fever, but they were working with him closely.
> 
> “She also became ill, _Tithen Pen_.” Daeron said softly. 
> 
> “Oh.  I remember,” the boy said, and looked down at the blanket.  “She left.”
> 
> “Why do you say this?”
> 
> “I dreamed about her, and she said she had to take care of my sisters, because they were too little to be alone.”  The boy’s innocent stoicism failed him, then, and his lips trembled.  “I said Grandma could look after them, but...”  He looked up at the Elf.  “She went, didn’t she?  She went to…”
> 
> “We call it _Menel,_ child.  Yes, I am afraid she did.  But your father,” he pointed to the bed next to him, where the man was sleeping, “is here, and we believe he will get well again.”
> 
> “I wanted her to stay with me.  I miss her,” he said in a small voice.  “And my sisters.”
> 
> “I know, son, and I am sorry.  But for now, you must drink all your medicine and sleep, all right?”
> 
> As soon as the boy finished, Daeron helped him lay back, stroked his hair, then said a _losta-luith._ He sighed and got up. 
> 
> Sooner or later, the boy, his father, all of rest would mourn, but now was the time to simply survive.
> 
> Daeron had brought his books, and when he found a minute to spare, he tried to read up on everything pertaining to this disease.  Luckily, Lord Elrond had written extensively on this disease:
> 
> _An epidemic of the Pox will come in several “waves” due to the delay between exposure to the disease and the manifestation of the symptoms.  This, sadly, gives in infected person much time spread the Pox, while still feeling perfectly healthy._
> 
> There had been several such “waves.”  It would seem like they had things under control, only to find another group of victims fall ill.  What a cruel, merciless thing! 
> 
> There _had_ to be a way to prevent further outbreaks!  
> 
> Wasn’t there something?  He remembered something…   I was in another of Lord Elrond’s books…  where was it?
> 
> Yes!  He found it. During the Second Age, the Lord of Imladris had noted:
> 
> _“…There are rumors that the Easterlings have found ways to prevent Pox in Men, although I have not seen this for myself, and I must therefore remain skeptical.  This missive stated that a Healer ground up the dried scabs from the pox sores, which were then inhaled in miniscule amounts through the nose of a healthy person.  This person would then suffer mild symptoms of the disease, but then remain free of the danger forever after.  There is a small chance of mortality with this (up to two men out of every hundred) but it was much more dangerous than the disease itself, when the death rate would be twenty to thirty out of every hundred, and even higher among women who carried infants…” **[2]**_
> 
> Daeron sat back from his makeshift desk at the end of the Meeting Hall, and considered.  He needed to speak to the Master Healer of Lothlórien as soon as possible.
> 
> Then there would be the matter of convincing the Men to try it…  Understandably, they would probably need to be convinced, and to be honest, Daeron couldn’t blame them, after what most of them had seen.  He had no way of knowing if this would work, and they would be risking their lives, if this was simply a hopeful rumor.
> 
> Whatever Daeron’s motives, could he live with himself if he _actually caused_ another wave of this plague, thus bringing about even more deaths?
> 
> _Ai,_ but he was tired!  He’d hardly slept for weeks, and he stretched his arms out to work the stiffness out of his upper limbs, and moved his head to loosen his neck.  When was the last time he really slept? 
> 
> A few minutes later, one of the Elves looked over from where he was mopping, and saw the Guardian fast asleep over his big book, with his head resting on his forearms.  There was no use suggesting Daeron go to the cot they prepared for him to rest; he had tried, numerous times, and the Lieutenant would stubbornly shake his head and refuse.  He went to Daeron’s room near the kitchens, and brought back a clean blanket and covered him up, and let him steal an hour or two of sleep.
> 
> Once Daeron woke up from his nap, he explained to the Elves what he had read, and asked them to gather the material needed.  The Elves wrinkled their noses at the idea, but did what they were asked then dried out the scabs on parchment paper.  Daeron also sent messages to the other Healers to please do the same, and that he would explain later.   If the Master approved of this experiment, and the Rulers of the Villages agreed, the time to procure the means to prevent another horrible episode was now.
> 
> After ten long, _exhausting_ weeks, things finally slowed down, not only in this village, but the other Healers reported progress where they were stationed.   Praise to King Manwë and Queen Varda!  Praise to Eru Ilúvatar!
> 
> Daeron had anxiously awaited Penlod’s report from Langhold.  He had a special connection there, as he remembered the night they sat all night with Isbeil and her husband Rob, after a dangerous birth.[3]  That was when he and Penlod had settled their differences and became close friends.  He was grateful that Penlod had especially asked to go there, and Daeron was praying none of them had been affected.
> 
> The letter came, and quickly opened:
> 
> _Suilad, Lieutenant:_
> 
> _I am sad to report that many in this village were already past help by the time we arrived, but we did what we could to ease their passing, and worked diligently to dispense the medicines and lotions you prescribed.  As per your instructions, their bodies were burned right away to prevent the spread of more sickness, and we have upheld the quarantines._
> 
> _Fifty-four have passed into the arms of Eru the Father, and I expect that five or so more may not recover.   Those afflicted have been healed of their wounds to prevent scarring, as much as we could, and I must pass on the news that four of them are now permanently blind, and sadly, we can do nothing to remedy that._
> 
> _The new mother Isbeil remains free of the sickness, as does the infant, who was named Willa, after Rob’s late mother.  I am sad to report that Rob himself became very ill, but I believe he will recover, though for many days, his life hung in the balance, and he will have a long road ahead of him._
> 
> _We continue to scrub, and have spoken at length to the villagers about the necessity for cleanliness, particularly the frequency of hand-washing.  All houses that bore the sickness have been fumigated, and we will soon be able to return those who were ill to their families._
> 
> _I received your request regarding the scabs from the sores, and have done as you asked, for later study.  I remember Lord Elrond’s reference that you may be referring to, and I agree; it is an idea worth trying._
> 
> _I wish you well, and continued success, Mellon._
> 
> _Penlod_

> Daeron felt a small pang of guilt, for his happiness that Rob and his family survived, after so many others just as worthy had died.  Still, the enormity of this epidemic felt like a crushing weight, and it helped to break things down to something personal to cope.  He constantly had to remind himself and others that their skills and efforts could only do so much; the rest was up to powers greater than he.
> 
> He felt proud of the others in the villages who weren’t afflicted, for all their hard work.  These men and women were every bit as committed as the Elves, and it often took gargantuan efforts to make them take the rest they needed.   Most of them had survived an earlier outbreak, so they were impervious, but they could still be vulnerable to other things, if too exhausted.
> 
> Daeron especially pitied and prayed for those who had to burn the bodies.  The Elves insisted upon doing it, to spare the survivors the anguish, but how horrible was it to lay so many to rest?  Especially the bodies of small children?  May the Valar give them all strength.
> 
> It had been almost three months, before Daeron felt it was safe to leave, and even then, some of the Elves had stayed to aid those who were still weak. 
> 
> Something had to be done.  The whole idea of helping these human villages was to keep everyone strong and healthy to prepare for the coming War.  

~o0o~

After he returned, Daeron and the others rested for several days, then he and the Master met with the Lord and Lady, to present them with the evidence in Lord Elrond’s books, and show them the additional letters from him with some further thoughts.

It was decided that Daeron would send letters to the rulers of some of the villages present them with their findings, and leave the decision up to them.  Celeborn had rightly ruled that his people had done all they could do, and must leave the final decisions to these Men, for good or for ill.

After the meeting, Daeron lay in bed that night, and thought of Dale, and blanched at the idea that such a horrible disease could plague those good people…

And possibly Rhian… or Valar forbid, their beautiful, precious Darryn…

His stomach flipped at the thought. 

The Elf quickly got up, sat at his desk with some rice paper, and wrote a detailed missive to Lord Bard, alerting him to the danger, and outlining Lord Elrond’s theory of prevention.  When he was finished, he got dressed, and went to find the Aviary, and asked that their largest bird carry this message to the City of Bells as soon as possible.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 20 th of March 2943 T.A.**

_“Ada?”_

Bain and Thangon had just returned from a long ride with Rhys, Bowen and Turamarth, and his cheeks were rosy from the cool outdoor air and the wind.  He pulled off his riding gloves and walked into the Lounge, where the family had gathered after dinner.

“Yes?” The Elvenking looked up from his book.  “Is there something wrong?  You look upset.”

 “What do you mean?” Hilda sat up straighter, and put down her needlepoint.  “Has something happened?”

“Y-yes…”  Bain blushed deep red, and became tongue-tied.  “Um…. _Ada?_  Do you remember when you first gave Bowen his dog?”

“Beriel?  Yes, of course.  Why?”

“And you know how you say that Elves put a spell on the females, so they wouldn’t want to… _you know_ … Did you do that?”

“I had assumed it was done before she came.”

“Uh oh,” Percy muttered.

 _“Rhaich!”_  Thranduil cursed.  “You mean…”

“What?”  Tilda looked up from her cushion on the floor, where she was playing with her dolls. “What happened?”

“Your _Ada_ ‘assumed’ something, Beanie.” Percy smirked.  “And do you know what happens when you ‘assume?’”

“No…” She was puzzled.

“When you _‘assume,’_ you make an ‘ _ass_ ’ out of _‘u’_ and _‘me.’”_

Tilda looked at everybody’s faces, and took in Bain’s blushing cheeks, Sigrid’s snickers behind her hand, and her _Ada’s_ wide eyes. 

Tilda scowled. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” Percy leaned down with a grin, and whispered, “Thangon’s gonna be a daddy.”

Tilda sat very still, while she worked all this out, then exploded with a squeal which startled everyone.

“DA!” She screamed, then ran out of the room with her arms waving. 

 

***************

 

“DA!” She was squealing and running in place, as Bard stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him. “YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT, DA!  You’ll never guess in a hundred years!”

“Holy smokes, Beanie!  Where’s the fire?”

She stopped for a second.  “What fire?”  Then her voice squeaked again.  “No DA!  I’m gonna have puppies!”

“You’re _what?”_

 _“No!_   _I’m_ not gonna have puppies Da, _Thangon is!_   Isn’t that great?”

“Uh, Thangon can’t have puppies, darling; he’s a boy dog.”

“No, but Bowen’s dog can, ‘cause she’s a girl dog, and _Ada_ forgot the spell and Bain said…. I don’t know what he said, but Uncle Percy said, ‘Uh oh,’ and _Ada_ made an ‘ass out of you and me,’ and THANGON’S GONNA BE A DA!” She jumped up and down in excitement. “There’re gonna be _so cute!_   Can I have one?  Oh please?  I want one!  _Pleeeeese?”_

“Whoa, whoa there… Here, settle down,” he picked her up and carried her to the end of the Corridor and into the Lounge, where Bain was sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

“…I was never so embarrassed in all my life!  There they were, going at it _right in the middle of the Marketplace, right in front of EVERYBODY!_ And they were all laughing at us!”

Hilda and Thranduil were sitting on either side of Bain, who had been traumatized by Thangon’s public display of love.  The poor boy still was jittery at the idea of girls, and to actually witness the sex act done with such enthusiasm was beyond his strength to deal with.

“It’ll be all right, pet.”  Hilda was stifling a smile.  “Honestly, these things happen…”

“You weren’t there, Auntie Hil!” Bain raised his head, near tears.  “It was just awful!  Bowen and me went to pull them apart, but Turamarth grabbed us and wouldn’t let us.  He said they were… _stuck_ …and if we tried to… it could hurt Thangon’s… we could hurt his…  _thing!”_  He buried his head again with a loud groan. Oh, bloody fu –“ 

“Language!” Hilda snapped, and scowled at Bard and said through gritted teeth.  “Just because _your father_ has a potty mouth, doesn’t mean you have to!”

“And _everybody was making jokes!”_ Bain wailed.  “Constable Tom said from the looks of things, Thangon’s got lots to be proud of, and Master Rodric came out of the Inn with all these pitchers of ale and served drinks!”  The boy was beside himself with outrage.  “He was _actually serving drinks_ while they were… _doing it!_   And all the women got mad. At me!”

“Well…”  Percy began, but shut his mouth when Hilda gave him a look.

 “They covered their kids’ eyes and gave me dirty looks, then they got mad at Rod and the others, too!” 

“Well, they can’t really think it’s your fault that Thangon… Wait; why were the women mad at Rod?” Bard asked.

Because _they started a pool,”_ he pointed to Thangon with disgust, and shouted, “on how long it would take for HIM to get…  _done!”_

“Who won?” Percy asked.

“PERCY!” Hilda turned back to Bain and rubbed his shoulders.  “Go on, lovey.  What happened then?”

“Gods, it took _forever!_ It just took forever, and all we could do is just stand there and wait!  I wanted to leave, but Turamarth said we couldn’t… and then I asked if he could stay so we could go, and he said he couldn’t do that either, because he has to guard me.  Stars, Da, I begged him to, _just this once_ , and he wouldn’t...  God’s, Da, even he couldn’t stop laughing!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but he’s right son,” Bard said.  “How did Bowen take it?”

“He just got all red and ran into the Bakery and told us to get him when it was over.”  Bain looked at his father with fury, “And Rhys was such a _jerk!”_

“What about Rhys?” Thranduil asked.

“He was supposed to be my _best_ _friend_ , but all he did was yell, ‘Oh gross,’ and ‘I’m gonna barf!’ _and ran home!_   He **_left_** me there!  That bastard left me there!”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to abandon you on purpose,” Hilda said soothingly.  “And look, it’s all over and you’re here, and…”

“But that wasn’t the worst, Auntie Hil!  When Thangon got…  done…. Everybody _clapped and cheered!”_ he shuddered, and buried his head in Hilda’s shoulder.  “I wanted to die, _I was so humiliated!”_

Bard cleared his throat and smiled into his knuckles, as he took in the scene.  Thranduil was trying to soothe the poor boy’s injured sensibilities, but since he was to blame for this oversight, it had little effect on the distressed boy.

Percy was doubled over in his chair, hardly breathing between guffaws.  “I would have paid good money to see that!  Oh, dear…” he wiped his eyes.  “I’m sorry, I really am, but…” and he was off again.

Sigrid kept her hands over her mouth, but her eyes were scrunched tight and shoulders shook.  Tauriel began to laugh, too, and soon she was flopped against Sigrid, helpless.  Tilda just kept jumping up and down and clapping, and wondered how many puppies she was going to get to play with. 

Bard rolled his eyes poured his son a glass of wine.

“Here, son; just this once.  Take small sips, now.”

“Shouldn’t you give him a cigar?”  Percy sputtered, and off he went again, and Hilda got up and smacked him with a pillow cushion.

Esta was clearly disgusted and went over to Thangon, and nipped him in the rear with a snarl, then left the room with her nose in the air.

Thangon, still sleepy from his post-coital haze, turned on his back and went to sleep.

 

“Well.”  Bard got undressed crawled in bed beside his husband.

“Well, what?”  Thranduil looked over at him. 

“You _did_ say how much you were looking forward to grandchildren…”

“I meant grand _children,_ Bard, not puppies.” He sighed.  “Do you think Bain will ever forgive me?”

“Oh, I think he will, eventually.  The folks in the Market had a good laugh, and Rod made a coin or two, so there’s no real harm done.  Besides, they’re both valuable dogs, so Bowen can sell the pups and that will give him some money of his own to put by. It’ll work out.”

Thranduil sighed.  “I still feel terrible.  I honestly thought they had taken care of this.”

“Bain’s young, and all kids are easily embarrassed at that age.  I promise, he’ll laugh about when he’s older.”

“Will Bowen be all right?  He’s still a bit fragile…”

“I’m sure Turamarth will make sure he recovers.  In any case, what’s done is done, and I’ve no doubt Rhys will come around and try to make up to Bain in a couple of days.”

Bard looked over at the hearth as the snoring heap of canine stretched out.  “Looks like he’s back with us, for a while.  Now I’ve got to get used to his snoring again.”

Thangon had been sleeping with Bain since the end of last May, but had the good sense to know when the boy needed a little space.  A fact which was made clear when Bain slammed his cushion down in front of his fathers’ fireplace and stalked out of the room, cursing under his breath.

“Have you noticed…”  Bard asked his Elf.

“I have.” Thranduil sighed.  “That cursed beast has not stopped smiling all evening.  Thangon looks like _you_ after _we_ have sex.”

“If that’s true, then I congratulate him on a job well done,” Bard reached for his Elf. “Come on; let’s get some sleep.  I’ll take a stroll around the Market tomorrow, and let them take their teasing out on me.   It might go easier for the boys, after that.”

He maneuvered Thranduil on his side, facing the window, settled down behind him with a sigh, but after a few minutes, the Elf began to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

Thranduil wiggled his bottom against Bard’s crotch.  “Woof,” he murmured. “Woof, woof…”

The next ten minutes were spent in a tangle of laughter, and wrestling limbs, until Bard managed to shut them both up by kissing his Elf thoroughly.  Their chortling was soon replaced with low moans, as Bard took his Elf from behind. 

Thangon, still exhausted snored through the whole thing, and soon everyone in the room slept with satisfied smiles on their faces.

 

***************

**City of Landorian, 22 nd of March 2943 T.A.**

The Boss sat in his chair beside the window in his study with a large glass of whisky in his hand. 

He was _angry._

Business was no longer booming in the sex trade, and he was losing money hand over fist.   His empire was crumbling around him.

 The Boss had been very careful to keep several degrees of separation between himself and his businesses - hence the name, “The Boss.”  Hardly anyone, besides his close circle knew his real identity.  He had a false name in Landorian, and made sure his business here was completely legitimate.  He owned a huge bank, which loaned people money and a reasonable interest, so as not to draw suspicion.   He was well-known and well-respected in the community, gave generously to charities, and was even asked several times to run for Mayor!

None of his Pleasure Houses were here, so no-one would suspect him.

Until now. 

Last fall, Harry had sent men to the Iron Hills, to casually inquire about “their children, who had been lost while traveling south,” and since then, no one had seen them.  He hoped they’d been killed, but no one found their bodies, which meant they had been captured.

And if they were captured, that meant his men would be forced to _talk._

Since then new shipments of his “product” had slowed down to a crawl.  More of his wagons had been waylaid and his men were disappearing all over the place.  Not only that, many of his houses were raided, his workers had been rescued and his men had been jailed or killed.  Not only his men, but his ‘customers’ had also been arrested, and those caught in the act with a child were often castrated as punishment. 

Word was spreading; and even if he could put up more houses, not many men would risk their balls for an hour’s worth of play.

If the reports were true, this had been done not just by Men, but by Dwarves and Elves!  What the fuck?  Those bastards never gave two shits about things before, and much of his business when on right under their noses, and they always turned a blind eye.  Now, they care all of a sudden?

_Dammit!_

“Sir?”

The Boss looked up to see Harry, the head of his Security and right-hand man, had entered the room and locked the door behind him.  This must be important, if they couldn’t risk any interruptions.

“What the fuck is it?”

“I think we found out what happened to that shipment of workers we lost last October.” Harry looked wary.  

The Boss indicated for his Aide to take a chair opposite.  “Go ahead.”

“We received word from our spies in the North that they were rescued by the Dwarves, and taken to the Lonely Mountain –“

“Shit!  That place is open again?”

“Yes, sir.  If you remember, the Dragon there was killed a year and a half ago.  The Dwarves are back, and their new King isn’t one to mess with.”

”No Dwarf is.”

“There’s more, sir, and I think this might be good news.” Harry tried to calm him down. “Our spy says there’s a new King up in Dale, and he rebuilt the City.”

”Who’s the spy?”

”Tim, sir.”

“The poofter?”  The Boss could care less, really.  He made just as much money from those men as he did with the girls. Tim was someone they’d blackmailed into working for him, but his info was always reliable. 

He moved there a month ago, posing as a handyman.  He says they’re working those fields up there and getting the buildings fixed up, with the help of Dwarves and the Elves, sir.”

“Together?  Dwarves hate Elves, and last I heard, the feeling was mutual!”

Harry shrugged.  “Apparently not up in the North, sir.  The kids were moved to Dale in November, but they’re guarded by Elfs and Dwarfs.  They sent messengers to Harad but letters can’t move in the winter months because of the snow.”

The Boss sat back and held out his empty glass for Harry to refill, which he did.  “They’ll be there for a while, then?” He rubbed his chin.  “So, we’ve got time…”

“What are you thinking, sir?”

“Revenge, Harry.”  The Boss said with a deadly calm.  “If this is going to be the end, I’ll be fucked if I’ll make it easy for them.  Those bastards don’t have a _fucking clue_ who they’re dealing with, but they’re gonna find out.”

 

***************

**LETTERS FROM DALE**

 

**To Celeborn from Thranduil:**

> _Suilad Ettā,_
> 
> _Bard and I received Lieutenant Daeron’s notice of the Pox epidemic in your area., and Bard has several volunteers who are willing to test out his theories, as soon as the supplies can reach us._
> 
> _I continue to admire and be impressed with the courage of these people, and their loyalty to not only their King, but to each other.  Many Elves (myself included) could learn a lot from this.  I deeply regret my isolationist ideals and vow to never again feel like I shouldn’t “bother” with the troubles of Men._
> 
> _I must ask you to destroy this letter after you read it, Etta, as this information is sensitive and could be disastrous if it falls into the wrong hands._
> 
> _We have received a message from the King of Harad, Celeborn.  He will be coming with his troops in three months to retrieve the children, which should be in the middle of June at the earliest._
> 
> _The reason for this delay is because King Dáin’s son, Lord Thorin III (The Stonehelm, from the Iron Hills) had captured three members of this organization and were “persuaded” to enlighten their captors as to the details of this network._
> 
> _He apologizes for the delay, but he must rightfully put his energies into the rescue of children in greater peril than those here.  He asks that we keep them for a while, where they are safe, until he can finish his work and hopes to come and get them before the end of June._
> 
> _Please, Cousin, look after your lovely and courageous wife, for we owe our current peace to her, as much as to those who died in the Battle.  I am thrilled to report that many of my own subjects will are due to give birth soon, including our dear friend Ermon – you remember him from his service to my father and to myself?  He and his lovely wife Elénaril, also a dedicated and talented Healer are now expecting twins this September.  The Lady Galadriel made that possible, and please, share this with her and send her my affection and thanks._
> 
> _With fondest regards,_
> 
> _Thranduil_

_***************_

 

 **To Daeron from Turamarth:**   

> _Suilad, Gwador:_
> 
> _Praise the Valar!  The messages are finally moving again!  Praise also to that Marchwarden to seemed to have talked my best friend down from a ledge, back in November.  Please tell me you are not still distraught, for to find out that you have been in agony these past three-and-a-half months would kill me!_
> 
> _Well, to correct myself, I have proof you have been functioning well, because Lord Bard told me of your letter to him and the bold steps you have taken to save the human villages around you. Well done, Gwador!!!_
> 
> _I may wipe the floor with you in weapons, (and yes, I do \- stop arguing) but I cannot match your skill and ingenuity in the Healing Arts.  I can only stand in the shadow of your Greatness, brag to everyone I know that you are my kinsman, and do what I can to exploit your fame for my own benefit!  (Sad to say, it still doesn’t help me win at cards, but I never was good at that anyway.)_
> 
> _I enjoyed Yule with our parents, who miss you a great deal, and had a marvelous time with all the children in Dale as they played in the snow.  Bowen especially enjoys his sled, and Beriel insists on riding with him and Maddox.  Bless Lord Thranduil for convincing Bard to start these traditions in Dale!_
> 
> _Speaking of Beriel…  You are going to laugh, Gwador.  It seems that when Lord Thranduil purchased her for Bowen, the breeders assumed he would administer the   Edonnadîl.  Apparently, our beloved King thought the opposite!_
> 
> _What followed as a result was a public display of passion between Thangon and Beriel, which the Dale folk found highly entertaining (except for the mothers with young children)._
> 
> _Poor Prince Bain and Bowen were powerless to do anything, but wait until they were done, and had to suffer the whistles and catcall, while the men drank ale, took bets, and made comparisons with Thangon’s Gwîb!! (I’ve gone swimming with many of these men, cousin, and believe me when I tell you, Thangon has nothing to be worried about…)_
> 
> _As a result, much to Princess Tilda’s joy, Beriel is now ‘heavy with puppy’ and will give birth to eight of them at the end of May._
> 
> _ Well done Thangon! _
> 
> _Have patience, Gwador; the year will pass, and there are many people here in Dale and back home, who pray for you daily and send you all the love we can._
> 
> _Be well, and again, so proud of you._
> 
> _Tur_

_***************_

**To Galadriel from Tilda:**  

> _Deer Galledril:_
> 
> _I did not no you were sick.  I am sorrry.  Do you get tyred?  I do.  Ada and Da dont let me get eksited, or do too much.  But I am good.  I take my napp when I get home from skool and my teecher and my gourd Roovin help me.  Roovin is my freind.  He is a Elf like you and Ada and he goes with me alot._
> 
> _When I was flowwer girl in my freinds wedding, he  helpped me praktise.  So did Ada.   Do you no what a flowwer girl is?  She has a pretty crow of flowers on her hed and walks in front of girls to get marreed.    It was fun._
> 
> _Do peole get married where you live?  Are there lots of kids?  We have a lot here.  Da seys they cant play in the streets, but he made places for us to play with fun things to do._
> 
> _I am glad I made Ada happee.  He is my best friend, except for my friend Alis, and my new feind Gwen who comes from ~~Dorw~~   ~~Darwinn~~   a place for away.  But reely, Ada is the best.  I love him._
> 
> _I have a dog.  Her name is Esta, and reely she is all ars, but when I got sick, she desided to help me.  Maybe you should gte a dog too.  My Da’s big dog Thangoon is gonna be a Da.  Uncle Percy said.  Then Turmart went to see the girl dog, and sed she was gonna have 8!  If you want, I will see if my firend Bowen will give yoo a puppy!  They’re gonna be so cuute!  Da and Ada says Im not allowd to have one, cauze Esta would be mad._
> 
> _LOve your freind,_
> 
> _Tilda_

***************

**To Daeron from Bard:**

> _Greetings, Daeron:_
> 
> _I am happy to report the falcon arrived with your letter.  After conferring with Ermon, who then showed me the passage from Lord Elrond’s book, I presented this information to the people at my Court, which was held the following week.  We have several volunteers, all perfectly healthy, who are willing to subject themselves to these tests, and live in isolation for a month under observation._
> 
> _Please send the materials as soon as possible and Ermon will notify you of the results._
> 
> _On a personal note, Tilda did well over the winter, with only a minor cold in at the end of January. You will not be surprised to hear that Lord Thranduil insisted she stay with us for the duration, and sat with her the entire time.  I let him do whatever it took to make them both feel better, and praise the Valar, she bounced back within days._
> 
> _Ermon still examines her on a twice-weekly basis, and has done all he can.  Two weeks ago, he met with Thranduil and myself, reluctantly admitted that her heart has shown no improvement after all this time, and though he still urges patience, he has little hope that Tilda will improve much more._
> 
> _This has been difficult for Thranduil and I to digest, and we have decided to keep Ermon’s findings to ourselves, and not burden the family with it.  We can only be as careful as we always have been, and pray for a miracle, because we cannot imagine a world without our Little Bean._
> 
> _I look forward to seeing you again, as the Castle just isn’t the same without you._
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale_

_***************_

**To Daeron from Rhian:**  

> _Dear Daeron:_
> 
> _Finally!  The roads are clearer, and the letters will go back and forth now!_
> 
> _So…  Where to start?  Yule!  It was wonderful!  We never had anything like it in Laketown, so we all had a blast!  Darryn has decided he likes to eat snow, and doesn’t like to wear his hat or his mittens! _
> 
> _I had a good time at the Yule Ball, and danced with your cousin, your father and uncle, and four of the Wardens from Lothlórien._
> 
> _On 29 th of December, Da and I had a party to celebrate our little boy’s first birthday, and he tried to impress everyone by smearing his cake all over his face and clothes.  But, as Da said, that’s why we’ve got soap and water. _
> 
> _Lord Bard told me how hard you’ve been working to help all those poor villagers.  Please forgiving me for doubting you even a little bit!  You are such a hero!  How many of them are alive today because of you and all the work you did!  They told me you were in charge of all of it, and hardly slept for weeks and weeks…  I cried when I realized how tired you must have been, and how selfish I was!  _
> 
> _I’ve been remembering the terrible things I said to you before you left, and I could crawl under a rock, I feel that ashamed!_
> 
> _Now I understand, Daeron!  You and the others made such a difference, and that could change things for the entire world.  I’m so proud of you I could bust and if you were here, I’d give you the biggest hug!_
> 
> _Stars I miss you, and so does Darryn!_
> 
> _Did I tell you I put that picture of you in his room, and every night, he and I blow “Ada” a kiss!  I still think it’s so cute that he calls you that (and I hope you aren’t mad)._
> 
> _I still spend time with Evan, and we laugh and talk a lot.  He’s a good man, and a good friend to both Da and me._
> 
> _I like him, Daeron, and I appreciate that he never pushes at me.  He knows what I went through, and he says I should only do what I feel comfortable with and never to apologize for that.  He reminds me of you, really, because you are just as wonderful. We just talk and go for walks, and has only kissed me on the cheek a few times.  I don’t know if he’ll ever be more than a friend, but right now, I’m having fun, and learning how to enjoy myself without being afraid or nervous!  That’s huge for me, Daeron!  _
> 
> _Still, EVERYBODY is so protective of me!  They ask after me all the time, and if Evan dared misbehave, they would scare the bejeepers out of him (If they haven’t already!)  Even Hannah smiles and thinks it’s funny._
> 
> _Oh, and speaking of Hannah….  She and my Da have gotten to be really close friends and spend a lot of time together!  Can you believe it?_
> 
> _Oh, dear – Darryn just got up… (He was put to bed an hour ago, but his new trick is crawling out of his crib!)  I’ve got to go._
> 
> _Lots of love and kisses from both of us,_
> 
> _Rhian._

 

**ELVISH TRANSLATIONS:**

_Elo!_ – Wow!

 _Ettā_ – (Q.)  Cousin, Kinsman (I just now found it, which is why I haven’t used it before.)

 _Edonnadîl_ – spell to prevent pregnancy (lit. “beget-stopping’)

 _Gwîb_ – Penis.  (Yep.  Tolkien named it!)

 

 

**NOTES:**

  * “Constable Tom” is actually a character in the New Zealand television series, “800 Words,” and is played by the actor John Leigh, who played “Háma,” one of the Guards of Rohan in _The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers_ (He was the one who got eaten by Wargs).   I couldn’t resist...



 

[1] _And Winter Came,_ Ch. 13: “…fasten their hair back, and scrub their hands thoroughly before entering the room, and to put on one of these light robes over your clothes.  Wear a clean one, every time you go in, and discard it as soon as you leave the room” 

Daeron continued, “Elves, do not suffer from illness, but we could carry particles on our clothing that could harm her right now.  Those from the race of Men, must not only wash and wear the robes, they must cover their mouth and nose, as you are susceptible to sneezing and coughing, and could send harmful particles through the very air she breaths.” He held up a small pile of clean kerchiefs.  “You must wear these over your mouth and nose while you are in her room to prevent further illness.”   <https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026709/chapters/28745932>

[2] In China, during the Ming dynasty, powdered smallpox scabs were blown up the noses of the healthy. The patients would then develop a mild case of the disease and from then on were immune to it. The technique did have a 0.5–2.0% mortality rate, but that was considerably less than the 20–30% mortality rate of the disease itself.   For more information, see the Wikipedia page:  <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smallpox_vaccine>

[3] _An Invincible Summer,_ Ch. 24: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/35641206>


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and our Kings get up to some hi-jinks in the Castle, and hilarity ensues, as well as a few knocks to the head. 
> 
> Thranduil accompanies Tilda’s class on a trip to one of the farms, but he’s there for other reasons, too, and has some additional concerns for Bard.
> 
> And a storm is brewing…  Where will it end?
> 
> And letters from the Golden Wood!

 

 

 “Just because I'm not forever by your side doesn't mean that's not precisely where I want to be.”

**― Stephanie Laurens, A Rogue's Proposal**

 

**City of Dale, 12 th of April 2943 T.A.**

Everyone was happy with Rhian’s work at the Castle.  Old Ben was always bragging how she could “organize a herd of cats,” the children were always happy to see her and Darryn, and Sigrid watched Darryn after school a couple of days a week.  Alun had always liked her and of course, Evan waved at her every time he passed her desk, on his way out. 

Best of all, Percy noticed his wife was more relaxed in the evenings, and the rest of the family was relieved to see her look less harried. 

But, the biggest obstacle was Hilda’s temperament.  She did not possess a great deal of patience, and everyone was on pins and needles, until they were positive Rhian could handle her when she blows her stack, which was going to happen sooner or later.

 

Hilda was alone in her office, and was worked up to a frenzy as she searched for a list of some sort. 

 

> “Where in blazes _is that thing?”_  

Everyone in the other offices stopped what they were doing, to listen the rustling of papers, the opening and closing of drawers.  When they heard slamming, they began to get concerned that she was going to blow up at Rhian, when she came in.

Thranduil quietly came into Bard’s office, and asked if they should intervene, but before Bard could get up, Percy put his hand on Bard’s arm and stopped him.

“I think we should wait,” he told them.  “Hilda is Hilda, and but I think Rhian will be fine with it.”

“But this is exactly why I was worried!” Thranduil hissed.  “I _won’t_ allow Rhian to suffer a setback!”

“Look,” Percy argued softly, “if Hannah says she can do it, and if Ben thinks she can do it, then she can do it.”

Bard considered Percy’s logic.  “I’ll go along with this, but only to a point,” Bard warned, “But if that girl gets upset, we’re putting a stop to it, you hear?”

“She won’t,” Percy whispered. “Now, hush!”

“Yes, she will!” Bard shook his head, but kept his voice down.

All three of them were silent, as they listened some more, until Galion suddenly appeared in the doorway. 

“There you are, My Lord! Why are you –  **_Ai!!!”_** the Aide yelped, as Percy grabbed him by the arm, and yanked into the room with a hand over his mouth. 

Galion was outraged, as he pulled Percy's hand away.   _"What the -"_  

“Shhh!” they all collectively shushed him, and waved at him to sit down.

“What is –“

“We’re listening.”  Bard whispered.  

“What are we listening for?” Galion hissed.

“Hilda.” Thranduil mouthed.

“I do not understand…”  Galion looked at the three of them like they had lost their minds, until he, too, became aware of the storm brewing in the office down the hall.

“We are waiting to see what Rhian will do when Hilda blows up.” Thranduil explained.

“Why would –“

“Will you _shut up?”_ Percy hissed, and waved all their voices down.

More noise could be heard from Hilda’s study.

 

> _“Dammit!”_ A slam.  _“Where in Mordor is that bloody thing!”_

“Rhian’s going fall apart, and we’ll have to explain to Ben why she’s a weeping mess!” Bard whispered nervously.  “Hannah’s going to kill us in our sleep, for this!”

“She won’t.” Percy repeated, patiently.

 “Are you _serious?”_ Bard gasped. “Of course, she will!”

“This is Hilda we are speaking of!”  Thranduil was incredulous.  “She has a terrible temper!”

“Just because she scares the shit out _you,_ ” Percy raised his eyebrow, “doesn’t mean that girl will buckle under.  There’s more to Rhian than even _she_ knows, and this is her chance to prove it.”

 “Hilda _does not_ scare the shit out of me!” The Elvenking shot back, pointedly ignoring Bard’s incredulous look.

“So, put your money where your mouth is, Elf: I’ll bet you five gold coins, that girl will have Hilda eating out of her hand by the time this is done.”

“I will take that bet,” Thranduil crossed his arms. 

“Me too.” Bard said. “You’re on.”

“You are _taking bets_ on this?” Galion was disgusted.  “I _will not_ condone –“

“Oh, stop,” Percy pointed at Galion.  “Now, quick!  Will she, or won’t she?”

“I will not be gamble!” The Chief Aide gritted his teeth.  “This is juvenile!”

“So, you think she won’t?” Bard asked him with a smirk.

“Of course, she will!” Galion was aghast.  “Rhian is a strong girl!”

“So, we’re settled then?” Percy held up his fingers.  “Two four, two against.  Double if Hil apologizes, triple it she apologizes in less than five minutes!” 

This was too much for the Aide. “Lord Percy!  I did not –“

He stuck his head out on the hall and motioned for Ivran, Rúmil and Meldon to come in and place their own bets, before resuming their places in the Corridor.  They had just made it, when…

“This is simply not -“ Galion began. 

“Silence!” The Elvenking scowled. “I hear Rhian coming!”

“But –“ 

“Shhh!”

Footsteps were heard coming down the corridor, accompanied by the pleasant babbling of baby Darryn. 

 

> _“Hi, Rhian!”  Evan’s voice was heard.  “Hey, little buddy!  Whatcha doing?”_
> 
> _“Brfle!” Darryn said to the man.  “Amamamama!”_
> 
> _“I know that’s your Mama,”  Evan laughed, then addressed his mother.  “Are you bringing him to work with you?”_

Bard and the rest looked at each other and craned their necks to hear. 

 

> _“Da’s taking the afternoon off, so he’s going to watch Darryn for me.”_
> 
> _“Sounds good.  Are we still on for Friday?”_

“What’s Friday?” Bard mouthed silently.

Percy and Thranduil shrugged.

“This is none of our _business!”_ Galion hissed, softly.

“Shush you!” Percy smacked his arm.

“But –“ 

Thranduil gave him warning look, and the Aide shut his mouth, but scowled.

> _“Sure, we are.  Da says Hannah’s looking forward to beating the tar out of us at Whist, after last week’s debacle.” She giggled.  “Good thing we aren’t playing for money.”_
> 
> _“I’ll bring some rolls from the bakery, sounds good?”_
> 
> _“Aye.  Hannah’s bringing some pies, and we know how much you like them.”_ They heard Rhian giggle. _“Da and Hannah are so cute… You should have seen his face when I offered to be his partner instead of Hannah.  Those two don’t think they’re that obvious, but I know he really likes her.”_
> 
> _“I know he does.”_ Evan laughed. _“It’s endearing, like a couple of teenagers.  But they’re both good people, and they deserve it.”_

“What?” Bard murmured, as he stared at Thranduil and Percy.

“Ben and Hannah?”  Thranduil’s eyes widened.

Percy shook his head, and grinned.  “Why that sly old dog…”

Galion couldn’t stand it anymore, and felt he must speak.  “It is _still_ no one’s business!” he hissed.  “This is very unbecoming behavior for _two Kin_ \- ”

“Shaddup, dammit!”  The Steward of Dale threatened to put his hand over the Aide’s mouth again.

>   _“Sure thing.  See you!”_ _Evan was saying.  “Tell your Da I said hi!”_

They listened to Evan's footsteps, as he left through the Great Hall, and Darryn babbling sounded further away, as Rhian took him to her Da’s study, in the East Corridor.

The four of them were so busy whispering about their City Planner and Midwife, they didn’t notice Rhian’s approach, until she suddenly she stuck her head in the door and made them nearly jump out of their skins.

“Good morning, everyone!” She said brightly.

 _" **Ai**!"_ Galion shrieked, then yelped again when Percy kicked him under the table.

”I’m sorry I started you.  Are you all right?”

"He thought he saw a mouse," the Steward explained. 

“Hello, Rhian!"  Bard squeaked, and tried to act casual.  “We’re just…” he grabbed stack of papers and held them up.

“…having a Meeting,” Thranduil said.

“Yes, we are.  A Meeting, weren't we?" Percy looked at Galion who said nothing, but blushed a deep red.

Percy kicked him again.

 _“Umf!”_ Galion’s eyes bugged out, but he mumbled.  “Meeting…  yes.”

Rhian gave them all a strange look, “Well... enjoy your meeting, then,” then she waved and went toward Hilda’s office.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Thranduil pointed to Galion.  “You,” he hissed, “are a _terrible_ liar!  And _you,”_ he turned to Bard and snatched the papers out of his hands, “were holding these _upside down!”_

“Shhh!” Percy waved at him. “I want to hear!”

The Kings and their Aides became still, to listen for the explosion. 

> _“Rhian!” Hilda snapped loudly.  “It’s about time you got here!”_
> 
> _“I am on time, My Lady.”  The girl’s calm voice was heard.  “A bit early, in fact.  Now, what can I help you with?”_

All four of them quietly got up out of their chairs and stood near the door.  Bard and Percy crouched down, and the Steward cupped his hand over his ear, so he could hear better.

> _“WHERE is the inventory from the kitchen pantry!  Where did you put it, girl?”_
> 
> _“My Lady,” Rhian said with patiently, “I put it in this file three days ago, which is clearly labeled, and in the drawer where it’s supposed to be.”_
> 
> _“And I looked at that file!  Don’t give me that!”_
> 
> _“Did you put it back?”_
> 
> _“OF COURSE, I DID!”_

 “Oh, shit,” Bard whispered.  “Here she goes…”

Percy shook his head. “Just wait…”

> _There was a pause, then they heard the opening and closing of a drawer.  “Here is the file, but the inventory is missing.” Rhian, said calmly._
> 
> _“I COULD HAVE TOLD YOU THAT!” Hilda was getting really upset. “The Baker expects our order this morning, and I’m already late, and…  What are you doing?” Hilda demanded crossly.  “Don’t you DARE mess with the piles on my desk!  I know exactly where everything is, and you’re messing it all up and –“_
> 
> _“I am not going to ruin your system, My Lady, but your list is obviously here -”_
> 
> _“IT IS NOT, I tell you!” Hilda was furious.  “Now, you just get you paws off –“_
> 
> _“If you would just allow me a moment…”_
> 
> _“No!  I’ll never get this sorted, now!”_
> 
> _“I am not misplacing things, but we do need to find it…”_
> 
> _“YOUNG LADY, I TOLD YOU TO STOP!”_

Bard stood up straight, to go out there, but Percy wouldn’t let go of his arm. 

> _“Ah!” Rhian’s voice was still calm. “I found it! You put it in the file for the butcher, My Lady.”_
> 
> _“I did not!” A stomping and shuffling was heard.  “I know what I bloody well did, and there is no chance it-“_
> 
> _A pause, then a gasp, followed by, “oh… there it is!  In the file for the butcher!”_
> 
> _“There it is.” The girl said, laughing._
> 
> _“My lands!  I must have looked there three times! It was right under my nose!”_
> 
> _“Lady Hilda, things like this are bound to happen,” Rhian’s voice was soothing and calming. “No one works harder than you in this City, and you’re excellent at your job, but Dale is just starting, and too many things need to happen at once.”_
> 
> _“Aye,” Hilda sighed.  “It’s a jumble and no mistake.  It feels like the faster I go, the behinder I get.”_

Percy was grinning, and smacked Bard on the back.  “Told ya!”

“Fine!” Bard whispered, “But she hasn’t apologized!”

“The five minutes aren’t up.” The Steward nudged his ribs. “Triple the bet!”

“Shhh!” Galion hissed, (though he would deny saying it, later).  “I cannot hear over your jabbering!”

From Hilda’s office, the conversation continued again. 

> _“Look, I’ve got to head over the bakers lickety-split.  Cook has been asking about this, and he’ll have a fit if I don’t get it over there now.” They heard get up from her chair and walk toward the door, but then she stopped._
> 
> _“Rhian?  I’m sorry I got so upset with you.”_

“Hah!”  Triumphant, Percy stood up straight gave them a smug look.  “Pay up, you lot.”

The other men grudgingly reached into their pockets and handed over their coins.  The Guards added their own to the pile in his hands. With a huge grin, Percy was just about to close his fist around them…

“WHAT **_IN THE WORLD_** ARE YOU BOYS DOING?”  

 ** _“Ahhh!”_**   Galion shrieked again, with a higher pitch than any of them thought possible.  _“Ai Gorgor!”_

The sudden explosion of noise startled them all, and the pile of coins flew up in the air.

“Ow!”  Bard yelped, when three of them landed on his head.

 _“Ulmo’s balls, woman!”_  Percy made a big show of placing his hand over his heart.  “You scared me half to death!  I’m not a young man, you know.”

 “Oh, knock it off; you’re fine.” She gave them all a severe look and put her hands on her hips.  “Now… What in blazes are you up to?”

“Well, we… I mean…”  Bard began.

“Spit it out, you." She gave him a look.  

“Well, it was Percy’s idea!” Bard jerked his head in her husband’s direction, and the others nodded.

 _“What_ was Percy’s idea?”  She skewered her husband with a look, then she turned to Galion.  “Well?”

“I _told them_ it was wrong!” Galion tattled. “This is _not_ my fault!”

“Oh, really?” Percy raised an eyebrow.  “So those coins _jumped into your_  your purse on their own?  I would’ve thought you’d be happy about it!”

"You were taking bets?" she demanded of her husband, and shook her finger at him.  “Percy, by the stars, I’m gonna -“

By this time, Rhian was standing behind Hilda looking utterly confused.  “What’s wrong?”

 “Haven’t a clue.” Hilda shook her head. “You know what?  We’re better off knowing.” 

She gave an impatient sigh, then held her hand out and wiggled her fingers.  “Come on, boys, hand it over.  Every bit of it.” 

As Galion opened his leather purse, and as he handed over his winnings, Bard and Percy both bent down to pick up the coins and smacked their heads together.

“Shit, that hurts!” Percy said, and rubbed his head.  “Are you trying to kill me?  I’m seeing stars, you bastard!”

“Serves you both right.” Hilda gave them all a disgusted look.  “You boys are worse than the children!”

She took the coins Percy handed her and gave them to Rhian.  “Take all this over to Alun, would you?  Tell him it’s for the Widows and Orphans.”

She turned back to them, and gave Galion a disappointed look.  “And _you_ should be ashamed of yourself!”  She pointed at him.  "I expect shenanigans these boys, Galion, not from _you!”_

“But My Lady!  I really must protest _…”_  

But Hilda was gone.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 18 th of April 2043 T.A.**

Spring in Dale was busy.  The farmers were getting ready for the Spring Planting again, and much of their livestock had increased.  The teachers at the schools organized field trips to the farms, and _Ada_ went with Tilda’s class one afternoon to see all the new lambs.

“They were sooooo cute, Da!”  she ran into Bard’s study and crawled in his lap.  “And sometimes, when the sheep move together really fast, they jump over top each other!  They do this little hoppy thingie where they jump on all fours and the same time!  Farmer Jarvis called it ‘sotting.’”

“’Stotting,” Thranduil corrected. 

“Yeah, that.  It was _so cute_  when the lambs did it!  And we got to hold some of them, and me and Alis got to feed one with a bottle!  And it burped!  Maddox and Gwen did another lamb, too, but it didn’t burp like ours did.  Then we saw some piglets, but we couldn’t get too near because the Mams get mad, and then we saw baby cows –“

“Calves,” the Elvenking smiled.

“Uh huh!  And baby horses, too!  Those are called ‘foals.’”

“You don’t say,” Bard grinned down at her.  “You sure are lucky.  I had to sit in my study all day,” he pouted.  “So, which did you like the best?”

“The lambs!  They’re so cute and woolly and Farmer Jarvis’s wife showed us how she can spin the wool, which I saw before when I was little, but she showed us how to dye some of it, and she gave us each a piece of wool and Miss Eryn says she’s gonna teach us how to dye it!”

“You had quite a day.  Anything else?”

“Well…  We got to see how they milk the cows, but that was just like how they milk the goats, so that’s nothing really new, but it was fun.  Their poop really smells though.  But not as bad as the pig’s does.”

“Thanks for the warning.  Farms are fun, aren’t they?”

“Uh huh!  I’m glad we don’t live on the Lake anymore.  There’s so much more to do here!”

Bard gave her a hug.  “I’m glad you had fun, Little Bean, and you can tell everybody else about it at dinner,” he looked at her face, “you look a little tired, so I think you need to get your nap, now.”

“But I’m not tired!”

“Humor me, love.  If you go get washed and pottied, I’ll come in and read to you.  How’s that?”

“Will you do the funny voices?”

“Every one of them.” He booped her nose, and put her down. “Go on, darling.”

After she scampered toward the bathing room, Thranduil smiled and gave his husband a quick kiss.  “How was your day?”

“Busy.” Bard stretched his arms out.  “How did those new men work out?”

Two weeks ago, a caravan of traveling farm workers approached the city to apply for jobs in the fields.  They were brought to the Great Hall, hats in hand, and explained that they spent their time going from place to place, to help plow, plant then harvest, then spent winters at home with their wives and children.  They pay they asked for was reasonable, so it was worth considering.  After conferring with his Council and Thranduil, Bard decided to hire them on a trial basis, and had them set up in one of the apartment houses in the City. 

However, Thranduil did a bit more than chaperone the schoolchildren today.   He was watching those men and gathering reports from the farmer, who had been asked to look for anything suspicious. 

“They seemed to be all working hard, and Master Jarvis has no complaints.”

“Does anyone else know we asked him to keep an eye out?”

“Not that I could tell.  Jarvis did say that his man, Tim, gets along with all of them very well.  The farmer asked him if they had known each other before, but Tim denied it.”

“Tim?  He’s the Handyman, right?”  Bard rubbed the beard on his chin.  “He moved here in February, I think.  Where was he from, again?”

“I do not know, _Meleth_.  He came to Dale, while I was working at the Palace.”

“I’ll ask Percy.  He’s got all that paperwork.  Seemed like a nice guy, but…”

“But what, Bard?  What is it?”

“Well…  I had Thangon with me, when he was brought into the Great Hall, and the dog didn’t seem to like him much.  He didn’t growl or anything; he just got a bit tense and sat close to my chair and wouldn’t budge.  Tim seemed respectful, had a good disposition. Jarvis tells me he’s been a good worker and knows his stuff.  On paper, he looks great…”  Bard sighed and shrugged.  “What am I going to say?  ‘No, you can’t stay here because I don’t think my dog likes you?’” 

“Bard…” Thranduil sat down in one of the chairs.  “You know I have made every effort not to interfere with your job, but I’d like to talk with you about something.”

“Of course, love.  Go ahead.”

“I know how determined you are to get the City done, before you work on the Castle, but… I am concerned for the family’s safety.  Please keep in mind that the only thing that separates our children from _anyone_ in the Great Hall are two doors.  They both are heavy and can be barred, of course, but is that enough to really protect them?”  Thranduil’s expression grew worried.  “I’d like you to consider my own Palace, and how far away our rooms are from the Throne and Council rooms, or any of the public rooms!  If we were under attack there, the Royal Wing can easily be sealed off, but what about here, in Dale?

“You must see, that if a mob of men really wanted to, they _could_ get in here.  It could happen while we are having a feast, or a dance, or while you hold Court - anything!  We could – and should – arrange to have spells placed on the doors, but even then, they could be set on fire and burned down.  And that passage leading from here to the Castle ruins is full of clever hiding places that, though heavily guarded, can offer access our children.

“This is _your Kingdom_ , _Meleth nîn_ , and I have been careful to not impose, but I feel I have a right to demand that our family be installed away from this building as soon as possible.” The Elf looked upset.  “I am sorry if you are angry, but I must speak my mind.”

Bard sighed.  “No, love.  To tell you the truth, I’d been thinking it myself lately.  Besides the fact we’re all a bit crammed together in here -“

“I have actually enjoyed that,” the Elvenking smiled.

”I don’t doubt that, after so many years of loneliness,” Bard gave him a smile, then became serious.  “I thought of that when those men came last week.  I kept looking at the back doors to make sure the Elves were standing there, because I just got… nervous.”

“Was it the Men?”

“Maybe.  I could see nothing untoward, their papers seemed fine, and they had references –“

“You did send messages to those who wrote those letters?”

“I did, but I haven’t heard back yet, and at any rate, who is to say the ones who wrote them are legitimate?  They could be just as bad as the rest of them!  There’s no way to know, and I don’t have the gift of insight like you, Thranduil!  What more can I do?”

The Elvenking sighed.  “What you have been doing, Bard.  Just be diligent and keep an eye on all newcomers.  Trust Thangon, _Meleth_.  If he is tense, you should be.”

“I’ll meet with Ben tomorrow and have him start plans on new living quarters.”

“Thank you.”  Thranduil got up and pulled Bard up to stand and hugged him.  “I just want to make sure everyone is safe, _Meleth…”_

“I know.”  Bard smiled ruefully.  “Looks like the honeymoon’s over, and Dale is going to start showing its warts.” Bard kiss his husband behind his ear.  “It was nice while it lasted, love.”

“Do not lose sight of all the good people here, _Meleth nîn._  Just be cautious, yes?”  Thranduil stepped back.  “Go read to our daughter.”

As the Elvenking watched Bard go, he sighed.  King Dáin’s prediction about the Harad children and those who captured them was probably correct, and Thranduil had a bad feeling about it.

Trouble was coming.  And the Kings needed to get ready.

 

***************

 

**Lothlórien, 20 th of April 2943 T.A.**

Daeron, Penlod and Orlin were on their way back from yet another village to check on their test patients, after administering the Variolation for the Pox.   Each volunteer inhaled a miniscule amount through their nose, and remained in a house separate from the town and had been closely monitored for their reactions. 

Most developed a mild form of the illness with a slight fever and a small rash, but soon recovered, only one developed intense symptoms, but even then, it was not as bad as those in the epidemic and one showed no difference at all, perhaps because he had been exposed long ago and developed in immunity.  Reports from the other villages coincided with these findings, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

A shipment of the powdered material had been sent to Dale, and Daeron was eagerly awaiting word from Ermon with the findings, that would not be for some time yet.

They entered the Gates of the Golden Wood, to find Orophin and Elion greeting them with a smile.  _“Suilad!_   How are your villagers?”

Orlin spoke up with excitement.  “Very well!  This is an exciting breakthrough.  We reiterated Lieutenant Daeron’s protocols of frequent hand-washing and such and we think these Men will be much healthier overall in the years to come.”

“That is good news,” Elion smiled, then turned to salute his superior officer.  “Things are well with our Guardians, Lieutenant.”

 “Well done.” Daeron told him When we get back to the Woodland Realm, I am going to recommend you for a promotion.”

Elion’s face lit up.  “Thank you, sir!”  he saluted and climbed up the latter to his flet to continue his guard.

He and his colleagues continued their journey to Caras Galadhon, then after they settled their horses in the stables, he took his bags and climb up the long stairs to his _talon_. 

Before he unpacked his luggage, he saw the letter from Ermon and sat at the edge of the bed to and opened it eagerly:

> _Suilad, Mellon:_
> 
> _The preliminary results from the variolation from the Pox, appear to be successful!  While we have a few weeks to go for the trial, the patient volunteers have only suffered mild symptoms which were recorded as accurately as possible, and I have sent you a copy.  Two presented with no symptoms at all, and there was one who did suffer more severe symptoms, but was in no real danger.  _
> 
> _As per your instructions, all patients have agreed to remain in quarantine for a total of six weeks with no outside contact, and we are also observing the hygienic procedures._
> 
> _Though it would be highly unlikely my wife would suffer any ill consequence from, she would not  come near them, for fear it could have an adverse effect on our unborn children.  Since neither of us is willing to take a chance, I could hardly argue the point._
> 
> _This could be such an advance in the treatment of Men, Mellon, and I applaud your courage to act upon a casual observation of Lord Elrond’s.  May the Valar bless him for thinking to include that short passage in his book!_
> 
> _On a personal note, my wife is glowing!  Elénaril is beset with strange cravings, although she has found out the hard way that our children rebel against spicy food, and seem to like any form of apples that can be prepared.  Not surprisingly, she does not show, and will not for another few months, but word has reached the people here in Dale and we have been presented with all the clothing, blankets, hats, nappies and just about anything two babies could need.  Most of these were gifts from the families of grateful patients, and my wife is often moved to tears when she receives them._
> 
> _I know you will say that mood swings are normal for a pregnant woman, and even a pregnant Elf, but I must tell you it takes a bit of getting used t!.  Lord Thranduil was helpful by reminding me of Queen Mírelen’s strange behavior when she was carrying Prince Legolas.  Lord Bard said the same things, and recommended keeping a bottle of wine handy (for me, not for her) and endless patience._
> 
> _As a Healer, I know all this, but when it is happening on a personal level, it really is different, Mellon._
> 
> _Best wishes for your continued success in the Golden Wood, and my the Valar bring you safely back to us.  As you know, Elénaril is counting on you to preside over the birth of the twins, and will not entertain the idea of me acting in any other capacity but expectant father!_
> 
> _Warmest regards,_
> 
> _Ermon_
> 
>  

Oh, Praise the Valar!  Daeron breathed a sigh of relief.  For weeks, he’d been haunted by dreams of Rhian and Darryn falling prey to this plague and…   he couldn’t even finish his thoughts.  He was getting ready to take a long, hot bath, when a Guard knocked on the door.

“The Lord and Lady would like you to report to them immediately, sir.”

“Thank you.  Please allow me to change into fresh clothes and I will be there directly.”

 

Twenty minutes later, he was seated on the chair in front of Lord Celeborn’s desk in his study, with the Lady of Light sitting beside him. 

“I know you might be fatigued from your long journey, Lieutenant, but we are most anxious to know the results of your study.”

Daeron handed them the reports of the studies and he went over each of them to explain.  Of all the villages that participated, the averages were about the same, which was excellent news.

“I have also just received a letter from my colleague in Dale, and he reports the same findings.” Daeron smiled.  “This is a particular relief to me as many of those Men are my good friends.”

“Lieutenant, you are to be commended for this bold step, and your diligence in treating those who suffered.  The populations of these villages have been reduced from this plague, but this will give them a chance for their numbers to grow.”

“Please, My Lord, My Lady: the credit goes to Lord Elrond, and I could not have done this if it weren’t for him.  I only followed his instructions.”

“So, it was, and I have written to him of your work.”  Celeborn smiled.  “I must also thank you for keeping my grandsons busy.  They… tend to get into mischief if they have too much time on their hands.”

“No thanks are required.  They showed great tenderness to the victims and no task was beneath them.”

“They are their father’s children,” Galadriel said proudly, then changed the subject.  “The other matter we need to speak of is our recent reports concerning this kidnapping network King Bard has spoken about.  We, of course, notified every village in our area, and sent a missive to King Fengel, but with the epidemic, too much of our outside resources were occupied with saving their lives.” 

Celeborn handed him a small stack of papers.  “These are reports of such caravans, and attempts were made by Men to waylay them, but many were unsuccessful as these wagons were heavily guarded by mercenaries.  You and the Galadhrim will participate in a joint operation the Rohirrim, under the Command of Lord Léod, Marshal of the Wold.   that will attack from many directions. 

He got up and walked over to a table where the map of the area had been spread out, and pointed out the various sightings, and gave the Lieutenant all the details.

 “How long will the campaign take, My Lord?”

“Six weeks; perhaps longer.  We will keep the refugees here and when their King comes for them, our troops will accompany them home.  I am taking no chances.”

Daeron smiled.  “I have received many letters from home, My Lord, regarding the children in Dale, and they are doing well.  I think you will enjoy having some of them here, even if it is only for a short time.”

Celeborn smiled, “Although it is under the worst of circumstances, we hope to ease their hearts a bit.”

“I am sure you will, My Lord.  When do we leave?”

“You will ship out in two days.  I know you are tired, Daeron, but we cannot delay. The Master and Orlin will stay here to follow up with the villages affected by the Plague, but I want you and Penlod to serve as Healers for those who are rescued and any injured along the way.  You will be accompanied by Elladan and Elrohir, though they will be under Haldir’s command.”

“Of course, My Lord,” the Lieutenant nodded.

When he returned to his rooms, he flopped down on the bed and sighed.  He was beyond tired, but Lord Celeborn was right: the need was too great, and his duty was clear, and no matter how he physically felt, Daeron would be there to serve.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 21 nd of April 2943 T.A.**

It was nearly midnight when they gathered in Tim’s apartment on the lower portion of the Dale.

 Since his arrival in Dale last winter, he’d found steady work around Dale as a general handyman; especially around the farms outside the City Gates.  He’d gotten a general lay of the land and a feel for the people of the City.  And he’d sent everything he found out back to The Boss.  Whoever that was.  Wherever he was. 

Tim had never gotten himself involved in the actual goings on of the syndicate, and he’d never wanted to.  For years, all he did was go where The Boss told him to do, and report what he heard and saw, and he got paid a hefty salary to find out whether his colleagues were embezzling funds or not.  He’d wanted nothing to do with the brothels, particularly the ones with the children, and he liked staying on the outside of things. 

This assignment didn’t seem all that bad.  Before he’d been recruited as a spy in the Boss’s network, he made a decent living as an all-around handyman, and this served him well wherever he was sent.  He was quickly hired on to repair equipment on several of the farms, or the stores in the Marketplace or even somethings in people’s homes.

And he did what he did best; he listened.  And reported.

They arrived last month, under the guise as traveling farm hands, to look for work with the spring planting.  They rode in traveler’s wagons, outfitted as small living quarters, which would normally be used as a ‘brothel on wheels, where the workers were locked inside, and their guards stood outside to take the money and prevent escape. 

Could they please rent rooms inside the city, they asked the King?  They told Bard that living in such wagons was pleasant enough, but a man liked a bit of a variety, and a place where he could stretch his legs a bit, wouldn’t he agree?

It was easy for these men to post as beefy muscular farm workers who could easily handle horses, mules and cattle, because it wasn’t all that different than handling drunken customers in the Pleasure Houses, or breaking the bones of those who didn’t want to pay up.  Most of them had grown up on farms in their youth, before The Boss hired them, so this was nothing new.

And tonight, as Dale slept, Tim had all twelve of them in his rooms.  Harry, the foreman of the workers spoke.

“The Boss’s kids are under constant guard by both the Elves and those fucking Dwarves.  We’ll never get at ‘em if we charge the place, so The Boss has come up with a plan.”

It was only then, that Tim noticed something about “Jarod,” the man sitting next to Harry.  Since the workers arrived, he’d been pleasant to the men and charming to all the ladies he encountered in the Marketplace.  He was obviously well-educated, and charismatic and everyone liked him.  

That much Tim already knew.  But he had just noticed Jarod’s hands.  The skin was smoother, callouses were newer, and they hadn’t been stained with dirt like the others.  These were the hands of a businessman.

_Oh shit…  he couldn’t be…_

And he knew.  Tim felt the bile rise in his throat, as he realized the horrible truth of what was about to happen.

"Jarod" was in fact, "The Boss," and he was getting ready to play his Endgame, and it was going to be bloodier than anyone could imagine.

 

***************

**LETTERS FROM LOTHLÓRIEN**

**To Thranduil from Celeborn:**

 

> _Suilad my dear cousin:_
> 
> _I am full of praise for your Guardian’s behavior doing the recent epidemic in our region, and though he insists upon modesty, Lieutenant Daeron’s insights has saved hundreds of lives and this new procedure  will prevent countless deaths._
> 
> _I, too have received news from the Southeast regions about the rescue efforts, the Marshall of the Wold in Rohan and I have assembled a joint-rescue operation, and as per your suggestion, will leave the prisoners for the Harad to deal with.  If necessary we can bring the children here in the Golden Wood for safekeeping, but the Marshall and I agree that if possible, they would to better among Men._
> 
> _I have also received reports from Gondor and Osgiliath and King Abdullon has already had great success.  As you know, Steward Turgon is ancient in years, and his son Ecthelion II has recently taken over most of his duties, and has been introducing sweeping changes in the City._
> 
> _He has been cooperating with King Abdullon and it was discovered that one such “Pleasure House” existed in the lowest levels of the White City!  The victims were rescued, King Harad took custody of the criminals, and Ecthelion ordered that every person caught engaging in a despicable act with a young one to be castrated._
> 
> _The same was done in the nearby City of Osgiliath, with the same consequences._
> 
> _I have passed your thanks to my wife for the possibility of new life in your Kingdom, and it has greatly brightened her spirits, almost as much as the letters from your delightful daughter._
> 
> _I hope we have an opportunity to meet your family soon, but until then, we will keep you and your people in our thoughts_
> 
> _Regards,_
> 
> _Celeborn_

_***************_

**To Turamarth from Daeron:**

 

> _Dear Gwador:_
> 
> _My heart lifted mightily when I saw a letter from you, after four long months of silence.  Winter is over, praise the Valar, and life blooms anew._
> 
> _I am sure you have heard of my work over the winter months and all I will say is that I am glad it is over!!  The one blessing is that the endless, backbreaking work left little time to wallow in self-pity, and worry over the future._
> 
> _My colleagues and I have just returned from the villages in the Wold and were delighted to find most of them in good health._
> 
> _The six of us are about to be deployed along with the Galadhrim to locate and rescue more of the victims in this network and I have been warned it might get brutal.  I will write when I can, but do not let that stop you from sending me pages of your usual nonsense!_
> 
> _Give my love to Aunt Indis, and try to behave, Gwador._
> 
> _I will see you soon,_
> 
> _Daeron_

_***************_

**To Tilda from Galadriel:**

 

> _Greetings Little Princess:_
> 
> _I hope this letter finds you well, as you enjoy the spring weather.  It rains quite a bit this time of year, but that will only help the flowers bloom.  I have enclosed some pressed flowers for you that grow in my Kingdom.  They are called “Elanor” and are a particular favorite of mine.  I hope you enjoy them._
> 
> _I do get tired, Little One, but I am very much improved, and I wish the same for you.  You are smart to take your naps like your Healers want to, because you must be careful.  I know you will try your best as you clearly have a family who love you._
> 
> _As I write this, I am looking at your drawing of your friend Esta.  Did you know that the name “Esta” means “Star?”  She is a good friend to you, and I am glad you have her.  We have dogs like her here in the Golden Wood that work with our sheep, and they are among the smartest animals I have seen._
> 
> _Unfortunately, I cannot have such pets in my house.  You see, I live high in the tallest trees on Middle Earth and it would be dangerous to keep a pet lest it fall.  But from now on, when I see a Tirhûtaw (the Sindarin name for Sheep Dog) I will think of your beloved Esta and her tender care of my little friend._
> 
> _May I offer my congratulations to your father’s dog and his friend on the imminent arrival of the litter of puppies.  Your Da is probably correct that it is best that you allow others to have them.  Puppies need a great deal of constant care, and from what I understand, you are away at school most of the week, and at various activities._
> 
> _Keep up with your school work and try to be good for your fathers, and I hope to hear from you soon._
> 
> _Affectionately,_
> 
> _Galadriel_

***************

**To Rhian from Daeron:**

 

> _Suilad Hind Calen and little Darryn:_
> 
> _I was happy to receive your letter last month and please forgive me for not writing sooner.  The winter months have been especially long without letters from home, and I am finally back in my rooms at Caras Galadhon, after spending almost two months working in the Wold of Rohan and other nearby towns.  I am sure you have heard of the Plague that has beset this area, and I have only returned here two weeks ago._
> 
> _It is good to be back in my rooms, and to see Darryn’s little face when I wake up in the morning.  His picture is by my bedside table and my day starts with a smile, as I wonder what he has been up to, and all the new little things he is learning to do.  _
> 
> _Of course, I am not upset that he calls me “Ada.”  I could not love Darryn more if he were my own flesh and blood.  I have thought of our little boy often, as I have treated all those sick people, selfishly thanking the Valar that it is not Darryn in that bed, or you, or any of my friends.   I do not think I could bear losing any one of you, and I have wept from fatigue and fear of that.  Other days, the image of this little boy gave me hope and the will to carry on in such difficult times._
> 
> _I am deeply honored to be called Ada by someone I care about so much._
> 
> _I was moved beyond measure that you understand what I am trying to accomplish here, and I know you regret your harsh words before I left, but please Rhian, think no more of it.  I have long since forgiven you and have forgotten about it.  _
> 
> _All that matters is that we reconciled before I left, and now you are growing in yourself and learning how to be whole.  I am doing the same, in my own way, I think._
> 
> _I am leaving tomorrow for a campaign, and do not know when or if I will receive your letters in the field, but please, continue to write and tell me all about home and the goings on.  I cannot tell you where or what I will be doing, or even how long, but I will ask that you pray that we are successful and safe, as I pray the same for you and all those I care about._
> 
> _Be happy, Hind Calen.  You are loved by many, and missed by certain Silvan Elf, who must now close this letter and report for duty._
> 
> _Please kiss Darryn for me, and tell him to kiss you back._
> 
> _Affectionately yours,_
> 
> _Daeron_

_***************_

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Hind Calen –_ “Green Eyes” Daeron’s pet name for Rhian.

 


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Rhian and Hannah have a heart-to-heart talk.   Daeron and Haldir report for duty in the Wold, and meet the real ruler of Rohan.  Thranduil returns to Dale earlier than expected, more nervous than ever, just in time for an Unexpected Party to arrive.
> 
>  

 

 

“I am running after you, and life, in desperate pursuit. My dream is that someday you will both turn and let me catch you. That dream carries me through every night... I have enclosed a hundred kisses in this letter. You must count them out carefully and not lose any.”

― **Lisa Kleypas, Seduce Me at Sunrise**

 

**City of Dale, 10 th of May 2943 T.A.**

Rhian and Hannah were sitting in the Garden of Old Ben’s house, and the midwife was playing with Darryn, while Rhian knelt on a padded rug and planted annuals.

“Bur!” Darryn pointed up at the sky, as a grey dove flew low, in the direction of the Castle.

“Yes, lovey, that’s a bird,” Hannah kissed his hair.  “What a clever boy you are.”

“It seems like he picks up a new word every day.” Rhian wiped her forehead with her wrist, as her gloved hands held the small spade.  “This is going to be so pretty. 

“I wish you had time to work your magic with my garden.” Hannah sighed. “Well, I shouldn’t complain, really.  I’ve been up to my eyebrows with work, and my daughter-in-law is such a sweetheart about helping me.  She wants me to give up my house and move in with them.”

“If you don’t really have time to keep up your garden, why do you do it?”

“Because, like you, digging in the dirt relaxes me,” Hannah smiled down at the girl.  “I’m by myself, with nothing but the plants and the sounds of the bees and the birds and…  I like the peace it brings.”

“Me too,” Rhian smiled.  “I always feel better after I’ve worked out here.”

“Good girl.  Now, how have you been doing?  Really?”  Hannah asked.  It had been a while since they had talked.  Between Rhian’s new work schedule, and all the new patients the midwife had to attend to, there wasn’t much time to touch base with the girl’s progress.

“I’m…  doing good, I think.”

“What do you mean, you think?”

Rhian sat back, pulled off her gloves, and took a seat next to Hannah. “I don’t really have much anxiety, and I still have the occasional nightmare, and you said they might never go away…”

“I did.  And when you wake up from one, what do you do?”

“Try not to take it seriously.”

“Good girl.”

 “I’m not too worried about that.  Overall, I feel…  good, but…”

“What, pet?”

“I like Evan a lot.  But I’m not really feeling like…”

“Yes?”

Rhian sighed.  “What if it’s just not in me to love anyone again?  Maybe Garth ruined me.”

“’Ruined you?’”  Hannah looked concerned.  “Why would you say something like that?  You love your son fiercely, and you love your Da…”

“I do, and I’m grateful, but I can only seem to like Evan as a friend?  What’s wrong with me?” she wailed.  “He’s perfect for me, Hannah!  He’s kind, and he’s smart and he makes me laugh and I know he’s good to Darryn, but…  I don’t think I can love _anybody_ after what Garth put me through!”

“I don’t agree, and if you think about it, you’d realize that too.  Rhian, this is what happens when young ladies and young men step out: they spend time, have fun, get to know each other, and sometimes love happens, and sometimes it doesn’t.  Every person you meet teaches you something about yourself.  So even if things don’t work out, it wasn’t wasted time.”

“You really think so?”

Hannah tilted her head with a smile.  “If Evan were to ask you to marry him today, what do you think you would say?”

“I… don’t know.  Part of me would want to say yes.”

“Why is that?”

“Because…  I know I could be content.  But would that be enough?”

“Evan would certainly make you feel safe, but doesn’t your Da do that already?” She smiled at Rhian.  “And you know how dear you are to _me_ , not to mention _two Kings_ who’ve taken a personal interest in your welfare.  How could Evan make you feel safer than that?”

“That’s true…”

“Don’t you think you deserve a little passion?  Why are you berating yourself for not finding it in Evan?”

“When I’m with Evan I have a good time, and we laugh and tease each other, but when I think of doing more…”

“Has it occurred to you that you just don’t love him, except as a good friend?  And why is that a bad thing?”

Rhian adjusted her position, so she was sitting cross-legged on her blanket.  “I don’t want to hurt him, Hannah!  He’s really wonderful, and…”

The Midwife sighed.  “What brought this on?  Has he made advances, or talked about taking things to the next level?”

“No.  We’ve only hugged and kissed on the cheek, but I feel like this all should be heading towards…  _something_ , and I don’t know if it is.”

“Who says you have to know right now?   You’ve not been leading him on, if that’s what you’re afraid of.  And I don’t see him stringing _you_ along either.  It’s still what it was when you first started spending time together; two young people who enjoy each other’s company.  He seems fine with things the way they are, doesn’t he?”

“Maybe I don’t know how to be in love.  I thought I was in love with Garth, and look how that turned out.”

“ _Were_ you in love with him?  Really?” Hannah wiggled Darryn’s small stuffed toy for him to grab.  “From what you’ve told me about Phylip, Garth seemed like a way out of a miserable, lonely home life.  Maybe you loved _the idea_ of love, because you never had a chance to know the real thing.”

“Maybe…”

“Now, things are different.  This time, if you do marry again, it will be your free choice, not a desperate one.”

“What should I do?”

“Stop being afraid of disappointing anyone, and learn about yourself.  Find out what you really want, and,” Hannah looked at her intensely, “ _don’t ever ‘settle’_ again, for anything less.”  

There was a wistfulness in her words, which made Rhian curious.  “Forgive me for asking, but were you happy with your husband?  It’s just that you know so much about what it’s like to be abused, and I…”

“It’s all right, pet.  I know what you’re asking.”  Hannah was quick to assure her.  “No, my Martyn never laid a hand on me, except in a loving way.  But, my father was a drinker, you see.  And my brother and sisters and I had to endure his drunken rages and hid under our covers when he tossed my mother around.”  She looked sadly at Rhian.  “There was nowhere for us to go.”

“It was her idea for me to marry Martyn, so young.  She quickly had us girls married off, and my brother had been apprenticed really young, and the minute we were all out of the house, she packed up her things and left him for good.”

“What happened to your father?”

Hannah shrugged indifferently.  “Fell off a walkway while stinking drunk and drowned.  Martyn and I attended the funeral, but only because he said I needed to see him, so I could know sure he was dead, and never be afraid of him again.”

 “Did you love your husband?  Really?”

Hannah became thoughtful.  “I really did. Not at first, mind you, because I was young, and it had all been arranged, you understand, but Martyn did love me, and I learned to love him.  Did we have a burning passion for each other?”  She sighed.  “No, lovey.  Our love was something quieter, and solid.  At that point in my life,” she smiled, “I found it wonderful, just like you feel now about your life.  When he passed, I genuinely mourned him.” 

Hannah sat still for a moment, lost in memories.  “He was a wonderful man, but,” she looked at Rhian, “he wasn’t the only man I’ve ever loved.”

“He wasn’t?”

She shook her head.  “I had fallen in love with my best friend’s intended, though he never knew.”

“It was Ben, wasn’t it?  You loved Ben, all those years ago!”

Darryn was falling asleep, and the midwife began to rub his back.  “Aye.  Oh, he was such a handsome man then, and all the girls were after him!  But he only had eyes for Cristyn, you see, and I was already married to my husband.”

“Did you ever tell anyone?”

“Just you.”  Hannah smiled down at her.   “I carried the handfasting cord for Ben and Cristyn’s wedding, and wished them well.  Then I put it away my romantic notions and I resolved to be the best wife I could be to Martyn, and I’m glad I did.”

“You never said anything to Ben?”

“Never.   I had already had my oldest boy, and my love for him eclipsed everything.  I knew what it was like to grow up in fear and anger, and I was never going to allow that for my kids.  My boys were going to have it better, I promised myself. I did that, and I’m glad.”

“Did Martyn ever suspect anything?”

Hannah paused, as she struggled to speak. “Right before he died.”  The woman lowered her eyes.  “He thanked me for choosing to stay.  I pretended not to understand, but we both knew.  He asked me if I had any regrets, and when I told him no, I meant it, with all my heart.”  She wiped away a tear.   “I did love him, and he gave me a good life, Rhian.  How could I have regrets?”  Hannah shook her head.  “No…   I’ll always carry Martyn in my heart, just like Ben will his Cristyn and that’s as it should be.”

Rhian got up and put her arms around her.  “You’ve both got a second chance!  He really cares about you, Hannah.”

“I hope so, lovey,” Hannah stood up with Darryn.  “Now, let’s get this boy in his crib, before he changes his mind about a nap.”

“What’s it like to be in love?” Rhian asked, as they walked in the house.

“It’ll just… hit you, pet.   It’s wonderful, and nerve-racking and powerful and terrible, but it’s worth it.” She smiled.  “You’ll know when it happens. 

“Well, if it happens with you and Da, you’ve got my blessing.” She leaned her head on Hannah’s shoulder.  “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

 

***************

**City of Dale, 18 th of May 2943 T.A.**

“Happy birthday, Da!”  Tilda bounced on her father first thing in the morning.  “How old are you?”

Sigrid and Bain came to the side of Bard’s bed and smiled down at him.

“Happy birthday!” Sigrid leaned down to give him a hug. 

“Thank you, my girl,” He kissed his daughter’s hair, “How are you, this morning?”

“Good, except now my Da’s an old man,” she teased, as she stood up, so Bain could hug him.

“Happy birthday, Da,” Bain gave him a quick hug.

“Thank you, son.” Bard rubbed his back.  “Where’s _Ada_?”

“Here I am, _Meleth nîn_.”  The Elf followed their daughter in the room with a tray, and the rest of the household followed behind with smiles on their faces.

Bard struggled to sit up the rest of the way, and couldn’t help yawning a few times.  Last night, he and Thranduil had “celebrated” his birthday a bit early (and rather vigorously), and the Bowman found himself a bit stiff and sore.

“Happy birthday, lovey,” Hilda bent down and kissed his cheek, then Tauriel followed suit, then ushered Sigrid and Bain off to school.

“So, what’s all this?”  Bard asked after the tray Thranduil was carrying.

“Breakfast!  I made it!”

“You don’t say,” Bard looked down at the burnt toast, and the runny eggs.  “Did you have help?”

“Nope.  I told Cook I wanted to do it by myself.”

“I’m surprised Cook let you in his kitchen.  He gets a bit territorial.”

“Well, he helped, but only a little bit.”

“That was nice of him.”  Bard wasn’t surprised.  Cook could be a real tyrant, but their Tilda could charm her way into just about everything.  He noticed the toast was only burnt on one side – the other was barely done, so he reached for the butter crock and began to spread it.

“I even made you tea!”  Tilda sat on the bed facing him, her legs making the shape of a “W” in that way only small children can do, and primly poured out the dark liquid into his cup.  “It’s really hot, but its that spicy stuff you like.”

“Did Cook tell you that?”

“Uh huh.  But he let me put the leaves in the teapot.”

“I see.”  Bard looked down into his cup.  It was so dark and strong, he wouldn’t be surprised if a spoon stood up straight in it.

“Taste it, Da!”

Ignoring Thranduil’s smirk, he took a sip. 

“Um…  It’s just a little hot, Little Bean.  Could you go get me some honey for this?”

“But you always like it plain; Cook says – “

“I want a special treat for my birthday.  You go, while this cools off, love, okay?”

“All right.”  She bounced off the bed, and scurried down the Corridor to the kitchens.

“Blech!”  Bard shuddered and handed him the pot.  Pour most of that swill out and get some water in there.”

“Where shall I put it?”

“In that fern over there.  Rhian said it was hard to kill.”

“Even sturdy ferns have their limits, _Meleth nîn_.”  Still the Elvenking did as he was asked, and diluted the mixture until it was palatable.

“Do you wish me to dispose of the food?” Thranduil asked him.

Bard managed to get the raw parts of the egg into a saucer, to give to Thangon.  “This is tradition, you know.  The kids always used to always give me breakfast in bed back in Laketown.”  Bard smiled.  “I’ve eaten much worse than this.”

“Really?” Thranduil looked at him doubtfully.

“You bet.  And when they’re all grown,” he sighed.  “I’m going to miss it like crazy.”

“Here you go, Da!”  Tilda brought him the honeypot from the kitchen, and settled next to him.  “So, what are you going to do today?”

“Well, I wish I could take the day off and play, but I’ve got a lot of work to do, love.  So does _Ada_ , but we’ll have a good supper tonight with my favorite pie.”

Tilda looked up at her _Ada_ , who winked at her.  Of course, they had planned a surprise party for him, and the little girl was struggling mightily to keep a straight face.

And, of course, the King of Dale kept his face passive and never let on he knew all about it, and would make sure to act shocked and pleased.

Bard looked down at their youngest daughter’s face, smiling up at him, and his heart was filled to bursting, as he tucked in to his horrid breakfast.

 

***************

 

**The Wold, Rohan, 22 nd of May 2943 T.A.**

When the Elves reached the rendezvous point to meet with the Men, Haldir went to the Marshall’s tent right away.

Daeron was nervous, as was all the rest of the troops. All knew of King Fengel’s indifference to such matters, but the people of Rohan, and especially of the Wold were anxious that this criminal network be destroyed.  In years past, the Wold had been particularly vulnerable to attacks from the Easterlings, and the kidnapping and prostitution of their children would only incite more violence, and lead to open war. 

“What happened?”  Daeron asked Haldir when they emerged from the long meeting.

“Our suspicions were correct, in that Fengel knows very little about this, and it seems the Marshal is no hurry to enlighten him.  He will not lie, if asked openly, but we are to proceed quickly and do what we can.”

“Lord Léod wants the Mark to be rid of this pestilence as much as we do, though we will not,” Haldir gave him a meaningful stare, “be taking prisoners, despite what the King of Harad wishes.”

“The resources of the Wold are even thinner, after the plague.  Why should law-abiding folk give up their food and shelter to house criminals?”  Daeron shrugged.  “I would not wish to do it either.  But I hope they can provide some sort of proof to present to the King.”

 “I have told the Marshal that our troop will not be carrying out the executions but will assist in their capture.”  The Marchwarden made a grim face.  “He has ordered anyone involved to be killed, and their _Gwîb_ will be presented to the Harad. 

“Ah.” Daeron shuddered.  “That… is a statement, to be sure.”

“It is.” Haldir nodded, then gave Daeron a look.  “The Marshal has asked to see you.”

“Me?”  Daeron’s eyes grew wide.  “Why me?”

“That I do not know, but I am to return with you immediately.”

The Marchwarden led the way, as he returned to the Marshal’s tent, with a rather nervous Guardian, behind.  When they entered, he was rather surprised to find not one, but two Marshals of the Riddermark, in residence.”

“May I present Daeron Adamarion, Guardian of the Woodland Realm, My Lords.” Haldir made the introductions.  “This is Lord Léod, Marshall of the Wold, and this is Lord Déor, First Marshal of the Riddermark.”

“My Lords,” Daeron formally saluted them, after which Déor spoke.

“You are the Elf who led the efforts in the Plague?”

“It was a combined effort, My Lord, and many deserve the credit.”

“Perhaps, but it has been your name that has reached my ears, and that of my kinsman,” Marshal Déor told him. 

The First Marshal of the Mark, second in command only to the King, was tall and powerful, as most of the Rohirrim.  His long, thick straw-colored hair fell past his shoulders and his face was grim and ruddy from experience and discipline, but there was an inherent wisdom in his countenance, and strength in his eyes.

“You might be interested to know that Plague swept far past the Wold, and into my own house.  Fortunately, by that time, word also came of your methods for treatment and that saved my son Éomund’s life, and kept the disaster from spreading.” [1]

“Is your son well?”

“Thank Béma, he is, as well as his nurse.”

“Praise the Valar, My Lord.  Was your wife afflicted?”

“She died when was born.”  Déor gave the Elf a sad smile.  “I have also heard of your gifts in midwifery, and I mourn that I did not know of them sooner.”

“You have my condolences, My Lord.”  And Daeron meant it.

“At any rate,” Léod said, “You and your kinsman have worked tirelessly to save our people, and we owe you a great debt.  We will continue to report to Lord Celeborn as to the continuing efforts at prevention.”

“I am afraid I cannot take credit for Variolation procedures, My Lords.  That must be given to Lord Elrond of Rivendell, for including this in his books, but ultimately, we must thank the Easterlings themselves, who had been practicing this for many years.”

“Really?”  The Marshals sat back, surprised. 

“I can show you the passage if you wish, and may I suggest that the praise of such ingenuity might… ease tensions between the Harad and the Rohirrim, should you meet in the future?”

The First Marshal stroked his beard thoughtfully.  “You may be onto something.” 

 “It is felt by all three Kings in the North, My Lords, that we must sow the seeds of fellowship and cooperation as best we can.  Of course, My King and his Consort are eager to see these victims returned to their homeland for their own sake, but if we can help to establish some sort of trust with the Easterlings, they will be less apt to be seduced by the Evil One, and to fight against us.  It is a slim chance, to be sure, but the Three Kings feel it is a chance worth taking.”

Déor spoke to Haldir.  “Léod tells me the Elves insist that the rescued children be taken to the Golden Wood.  Why?”

“May I answer that, My Lord?”  Daeron offered, with a look of deference to Haldir.

“Of course, if you know more of this than the Marchwarden, here.”

“As we speak, there are a small band of refugees in Dale, under the protection of all three Kingdoms.  I have received letters from the Healers there that the children feel safer among the Elves, and even the Dwarves, as our races are not capable of the types of... things that some evil Men choose to partake in.   No offense to present company, of course.”

“None taken.” Déor nodded.

“The children have visibly relaxed and are speaking more around the Elves, and are recovering from their heinous trauma.  Elves can minister to them in ways that Men cannot, and frankly, My Lords, they _need_ the help.”

Léod turned to the First Marshal.  “He’s right, My Lord.  We’re only equipped to dispose of those bastards, and get back to our own fields.  We’re still behind with the planting and such from the Plague and we don’t have the means to help these kids.”

“I agree.  It shall be done as you say, and we will leave the return of the children to you, provided the Easterlings are fully aware of our cooperative efforts.”

“Absolutely, My Lord,” Haldir bowed.  “You have my personal word on that.”

“There is also the matter of payment,” Déor said.  “Are you Elves expecting remuneration for your efforts on behalf of our people in the Plague, or for rescuing human children?  Neither of these things are of concern to Elves.  What do you want from all this?”

“On behalf of my Lord and Lady, I am authorized to inform you that we expect very little, except to foster better relations with our neighboring countries.  I do not know if Mithrandir has been to see your King recently, but – “

“I do not know,” Déor said, carefully, “though when Gandalf the Grey came to see _me_ , I did urge him to visit Edoras.”  He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, “I will not speak against my King and bring dishonor to my house, you understand, but I recall that the Wizard had much to say about recent and _future_ _events,_ if you get my meaning.”

 “I do…”  Haldir nodded.  “And I will pay you the courtesy of not asking if this current mission is sanctioned by your King.”

“’Mission?’ What mission?”  Déor, smiled and shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t expect to hear of _any_ such mission until two months from now, when an official report is sent to me.   And when such a report comes, I will, of course, applaud the Marshal of the Wold for his initiative in dealing with these criminals,  and for coordinating these rescue efforts.  The First Marshal raised his eyebrows.  “And the fact that a bunch of Elves _happened_ to show up at the same time?” He grinned. “Now, wasn’t _that_ a fortunate… _coincidence?”_

“Fortunate indeed,” Haldir smiled and nodded his head.  “May the Valar bless our efforts, then.”  Then the Marchwarden became serious.  “I… have heard many good things about Prince Thengel, My Lord.[2]  May his reign be blessed.”

“From your mouth to Béma’s ears, my friend.”  Déor nodded turned to Léod.  “Right, my friend; I’ll leave you to it then.  And remember,” he gave everyone a pointed look, “I was _never_ here _.”_

**City of Dale 29 nd of May 2943 T.A.**

Things were falling into place. 

 

~o0o~ 

>  “These Dale folks don’t give their trust easily,” Tim had told them, when they first arrived.  “You’ve got to be careful, or they’ll know something’s up.  Especially with those Elves; they can sniff out trouble sooner than anyone.” 
> 
> Since the Handyman’s arrival, he had been carefully cultivating a romantic relationship with a young, impressionable kitchen maid at the Castle who loved to gossip, so by the time The Boss and the rest arrived, it was remarkably easy to learn what he needed to know.
> 
> When they arrived, The Boss and his crew did some careful cultivating of their own.  By day, they worked in the fields, and in the evenings, ingratiated themselves to all the townsfolk they met, and gave no one reason to doubt their word.  Folks in Dale knew him as Jarod, and the men started to wave greetings and the ladies simpered, as he grinned rakishly and kissed their hands.  Most nights would find them in the taverns joining in the fun and making friends over a pint of ale or two, and it had taken a while, but they were soon accepted by the Dale folk, who had no idea they would meet in Tim’s apartment in the top floor and plan out his elaborate scheme of revenge. 
> 
> The mercenaries he had hired had been paid well enough to keep their mouths shut and ask no questions.  As added insurance, when they came to collect their advances, Harry casually mentioned the names of each man’s family, and if there were sons, daughters, nieces or nephews, all the better to keep them from changing their minds. 
> 
> He had them by the balls, and he knew it.  If they failed, or were even captured, that man’s family would suffer, and they knew it.  Succeed or die.
> 
> Well, die anyway.  The Boss doesn’t ever leave loose ends.  Or witnesses.

~o0o~

Two weeks ago, he sent the order to attack that village in the South, and when the Elf King left, Jarod sent word to have the group of Harad men come from the East.  They were now in the area and would be ready this afternoon. 

And today was the day it was all going to come together, and he’d have his revenge.  He’d lost a fortune, and an Empire that had taken years to build, and _someone_ was going to pay, and pay dearly. 

He wasn’t going to kill the King of Dale.  He was going to destroy everything the King of Dale loved, and if that Fucking Elf suffered too, all the better.

Today.

 

***************

 

**Three hours before...**

“Hello, there, Jarod, Harry,” the owner of the Livery came out to greet the men as he wiped his hands on a rag. 

“Afternoon, Daffyd.  Did you get our wagon fixed yet?” 

“We did.  That wheel was in pretty bad shape.  I’m glad you brought it in when you did; it wouldn’t have lasted but a few more miles.  I’ve seen a lot of these covered wagons over the years, but these ones are nicely made up.”

“Well, I tell you, Daffyd,” The Boss told him with a smile.  “We spend a lot of time traveling from place to place to work crops and it sure beats setting up a camp every night hand sleeping in the cold, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, aye!  You’d be out of the wind and rain, plus you don’t have to worry about wild animals bugging you at night, do ya?”

“Nope,” Harry shook his head, and gave the Livery owner a big, friendly smile.  “Hey, Daffyd, can you do us a favor?  Jarod and I can’t come get the wagon till after our horses are done working for the day.  Do you mind keeping it here until this evening around suppertime? We’ll pay you now, of course.”

“Not a problem.”  Daffyd took their coin and pocketed it.  “We’ll leave it outside, so just come and get it whenever.  My son, Powell lives just upstairs, so if you have a problem, knock on his door and he’ll come down to help you get the horses hitched up, all right?”

“Sure thing.  Thanks again,” The Boss and Harry waved at him and made their way through the city streets and back out in the fields, to await the signals that all was in place and their attack would begin. 

 Today was the day.   It was all coming together, and it was going to be spectacular.

 

Two hours later, the horses were brought into the city, hitched to the covered wagon, and taken to the apartment house where the crew had been staying. 

“Are they here?” The Boss opened the back door to the wagon and saw two small, unconscious bodies there.  Good. 

“Snatched this afternoon, on their way home from school.  Piece of cake,” one of his men said, waving his cloth and the bottle of ether.  “Out like a light, and not a peep out of them.”

“What about the Blacksmith?”

“Dead.”

“And the woman?”

“She’s been ‘persuaded’ to cooperate, so her children will live.” The man assured him, then added a bit warily.  “Boss?  I think you should know, the Elf King came back with those blonde archers just now.”

_Shit!_

He whirled around and grabbed Tim’s shirt, with an accusing glare.  “You told me he wasn’t coming for _three more days,_ you fucking bastard!”

Tim raised his hands in protest.  “That’s what the kitchen maid told me, Boss, I swear!  That’s what everyone was saying!”

The Boss grinned, whipped out a knife and stabbed him in the gut, then twisted it with an evil grin, as Tim’s eyes opened wide with shock. as he collapsed on the floor in agony.  Then “Jarod” nonchalantly wipe the blade of his knife on Tim’s shirt and put it away. 

It was no big loss.  Tim was a loose end he’d planned to kill anyway.  The fact that he’d outlived his usefulness a few hours earlier didn’t make much difference to him.

“You,” he pointed to one of the other men who was staring down at Tim’s body. 

“Y-yes, sir?” the man croaked.

The Boss grabbed Tim’s hand mirror of the windowsill and thrust it at him.  “You’ll stay here, and watch the East Gate.  As soon as we leave the City, send the signals through that window,” he pointed to the North.  Wait a half-hour, then signal to the East.  As soon as you’ve done that, meet the rest of the men downstairs and take the fucking Orphanage or whatever the fuck they call it.  If you can’t take the kids, slit their throats, and kill everybody who stands in your way.”

Today was the day, and The Boss wasn’t about to let that blonde Elf ruin his careful plans.

Today was the day.

 

*******************

**City of Dale, 29 th of May 2943 T.A.**

It had been a quiet afternoon, in Bard’s study, and he was enjoying it.

Eight days ago, Thranduil had been called away, and he hadn’t been expected to return for another three days, but a bird arrived this morning with a message saying he would be arrive late this afternoon.

It was serendipitous, really, because everyone in the Corridor had other plans, or after-school activities, which meant Bard could _finally_ have some alone time with his Elf!

 Yesterday he had handed the keys to their Hunting Lodge to Percy, and saw them off for a mini-break.  Hilda had been looking a bit ragged around the edges, and when Bard offered the use of the cottage, Percy dragged Hilda away from work (kicking and screaming, of course), as Bard waved them off an hour later.

The spring in Dale was going well. 

The fields had been planted, with great success, thanks to the extra farm workers.  As soon as the weather thawed, several of the Dale folk expressed a desire to travel to the Long Lake and return to their fisherman roots, so to speak.   

The children from Harad had been doing well, at the Orphanage, and over the past two months, the Kings of the North received regular updates on the campaign to rid Rhovanion of this unspeakable criminal syndicate, and one by one, the network was being destroyed.  yet his Elf couldn’t shake the bad feeling he had. 

The danger was passing, yet Thranduil had become increasingly cryptic these past few weeks.   To be honest, his portents of doom was weighing on everyone in the family, especially when there was no clear evidence of anything wrong.  Besides taking extra precautions, what could they do, really?  

Then came the report that a group of Bandits had raided a village near the Eastern border to the Woodland Realm.   The village was technically in the principality of Dorwinian, but Thranduil had been protecting since the days of Garon the Founder, and he had to go.

~o0o~

 

> _“I do not know why, Meleth nîn.  I just… have a bad feeling, and I cannot shake it,” he told Bard as he packed to leave for the Woodland Realm.  “I do not wish to go, and if I could I – “_
> 
> _“Hey,” Bard put his arms around Thranduil’s waist.  “Our marriage can’t stop you from serving your Kingdom, Thranduil.”_
> 
> _“I still would feel better if we could send the children to Erebor…”_
> 
> _“We can’t do that, love.  I know you’re wary, and so am I but I won’t live in a cage, and neither can our children. If you’re going to lock them away, you may as well never let them out again, because this world is full of danger._
> 
> _“I pray you are right, Bard.”  Thranduil put his forehead against Bard’s and closed his eyes.  “I will be back as quick as I can.”_
> 
> _“Do what you need to do, love.  Don’t neglect your forest or your people, love; they need you, too.”_

~o0o~

Ah.  The familiar stirring in his _fëa_ …  His husband was near.

With a smile, capped his Ink, put his quill in its holder with the rest of them, and eagerly went out to meet his Elf.

He stepped out on the dais and waited for Thranduil and his escort to enter the courtyard.  This time, he was accompanied by the Galadhrim who had finished another tour on the Woodland Realm, and were ready to resume their duties in the City.

 _“Mae de 'ovannen,_ _Aran Thranduil,”_ Bard formally saluted his husband.

The King of the Woodland Realm got off his horse and handed the reigns to one of the Guards in front of the Great Hall.  _“Mae de 'ovannen, Aran Bard,”_ he returned the formal greeting and salute, then came up the steps and stood before the Bowman with a loving smile.  “I have missed you,” he whispered, and squeezed his hand.

“Me, too.” Bard answered softly.  “Dismiss the Wardens, then you can prove it.”

“Your wish, is my command, My King.”  With a nod, Thranduil dismissed the Wardens with thanks, then followed Bard inside and into their Private Quarters.

“How did things go, love?  Is everyone all right?”

Thranduil sighed.  “It was a band of roughly seventy men.  The Guardians managed to signal in plenty of time, and between the Elves and Men, they managed to deal with it, but not before several were killed.”  He gave Bard a sad look.  “Three men, seven women and fourteen children were killed.  Several others were missing when we arrived.”

“Oh, gods…”  Bard closed his eyes horror.

“We scoured the surrounding lands for many miles,  found the bodies of the missing, and the rest of the bandits.  I left Feren there, to finish up, and support the survivors.  Galion is still at the Palace, so I do not expect him for a few days.”

“Did you find out where these attackers came from, or what they wanted?”

“We wanted to keep at least one alive for questioning, but,” Thranduil’s face was troubled.  “The leaders slit the throats of their own men and killed themselves.  Only one survived, but not for long.”

 “That’s… horrible.” Bard felt an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“It was.  It was as if they were afraid to live, if they had failed!”

“Did that man talk at all?”

“He managed to say, ‘The Boss, will kill my family,’ but that tells us little, except that this…  Boss… is still out there, and he’s deadlier than I can imagine.  I had originally intended to wait and come with them, but…I…  _felt the need_ to be here.” Thranduil looked up and down the Corridor at the quiet.  “Where is everyone, Bard?”

 “Hilda needed a rest, so they went to our Hunting Lodge for a couple of days, for some peace and quiet.”  

“Where are the children?”  The Elvenking’s voice was soft, but full of trepidation.

Bard tried to quell his growing nervousness. “The girls asked me the other day if they could go to Rhian’s tonight for supper.  Hannah will be there and Evan is keeping an eye on things for Ben.”

“Where is Ben?”

“He and Alun are at Erebor meeting with the Dwarves, and going over the plans for the Castle repairs.  Since we’ve heightened the security around here, there hasn’t been a hint of trouble, so I told them they could, but they had to have three guards.  Ben had asked Evan to keep an eye out for his daughter and grandson, until he gets back late tonight.”

“Who is guarding our daughters?” Thranduil asked, as his eyes grew wide. 

 “Ivran, Ruvyn, and Meldon are posted at Rhian’s house, and Tauriel and Turamarth are riding with the three boys around Hope Field.”

 _“Outside the City Walls?”_ The Elvenking’s face went white.  _“Rhaich, Bard! Penin estel?_ Why would you allow this, knowing how worried I have been?” he grabbed Bard’s arms and demanded through gritted teeth. “ _Am man agóreg?”_

“The attack on the village was what you had predicted, wasn’t it?  Wasn’t _that_ what you’ve been afraid of?”

Thranduil tried to calm himself.  “That is why I came back, Bard.  Because the feeling did not leave me, and I had to come…”

“What?” Bard’s growing fear made him angry.  “ _What the bloody fuck is it?”_ He yelled.  “You’ve been acting like the world is about to fall apart for over a month, dammit!  The kids have picked up on it, and they’ve been jumpy and upset for weeks because you can’t seem to come up with answers!   _What more are we supposed to do, Thranduil?_   What?  And for how long?”

The Elvenking shook his head and was about to reply, when one of the Guards posted in the Corridor came to them and saluted.

“My Lord Bard, a foreign party is seeking entrance to the North Gates.  He claims he is the King of Harad, come to collect his children.”

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Gwîb -_ Penis

 _Mae de 'ovannen, Aran Thranduil_ – Well met, King Thranduil

 _Mae de 'ovannen, Aran Bard –_ Well met, King Bard

 _Rhaich, Bard!_ – Curses, Bard!

 _Am man agóreg?_ – Why would you do that?

 _Penin estel?_ – Are you insane?

 

[1] In my verse, Déor is the father of Éomund, who goes on to marry Theodwyn, sister of King Theoden, who gives birth to future King Éomer Éadig, and his sister Éowyn.  Both of these siblings feature prominently in the War of the Ring.

 

[2] Fengel was a greedy and quarrelsome man, and Thengel left Rohan in his youth to live in Gondor, where he won great renown in the service of Turgon. Eventually he met and married Morwen Steelsheen of Lossarnach in 2943, and he lived with her there for a while. Morwen bore him five children in total, including his only son (his second child) Théoden in 2948 and a daughter Théodwyn in T.A. 2963, who would be the mother of Éomer and Éowyn.


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our Kings are surprised at the Harad King’s sudden appearance, and Thranduil is wary.  For good reason, it turns out, as things get worse from there.
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING:  This gets gruesome and bloody, so if you’re squeamish, be careful.

“Because when it comes to my offspring I will fight with the fangs of a wolf & claws of a dragon. And no one, or nothing will stop me from protecting them.”

** \- Jordan Sarah Weatherhead, Naked Truth **

 

**City of Dale, 29 th of May 2943, T.A.**

The Kings stood together on the dais under the archways of the Great Hall, avoiding each other’s gaze.  Both were tense and angry as they awaited the arrival of the King of Harad and his entourage, after their harsh words in the Corridor.

The Elvenking sighed and tried to calm down.  This gnawing sense of pending doom was hard for Bard to deal with – it was hard on everyone, but he couldn’t shake his wariness.  Something was _wrong_ , and he if could give a real answer as to why, he would do so; why couldn’t Bard understand that?

“I’m sorry.” Bard whispered to him, as they waited for the arrival of the King of Harad and his entourage.

“That you allowed our children to have some fun?  That is nothing to be sorry about,” Thranduil told him quietly, his fists clenched.  “But for you to dismiss my apprehension, and possibly endanger our children’s lives…”

“I’ve done no such thing, and you’re a _complete_ bastard to say something like that to me!” He hissed furiously. “What the bloody fuck was I supposed to do?  Ship them off to the Mountain to live?”

He knew Bard had a point, but was he was too weary and angry to admit it.  The Elvenking blew out a breath of frustration.  “I know we cannot lock them away—“

“No, we can’t!  Don’t you think I’d love to do that?   Damn it, Thranduil!  If I had _any_ inkling of trouble, they’d be packed off to Dáin in no time, you know that!”

“I… “Thranduil shook his head slightly.  “Let us just pray I have been wrong.”

He looked over at the Blacksmith’s wife, who been immediately sent for to serve as interpreter.  Mistress Adila, had been standing a bit away from them, and she either heard nothing of his terse exchange with Bard, or she was too preoccupied to notice.  He decided the latter, as he took in her nervous stance, her eyes that looked not to the Courtyard, but to the ground beneath her feet.  He also noticed the sheen of sweat above her lip.

“Are you well, Mistress?” Thranduil asked, but she did not seem to hear him.  “Mistress Adila?”

“Yes?” she looked at him absentmindedly, clearly distracted.

Thangon left Bard’s side and went over to lean his weight against Adila’s leg, and he noticed her trembling fingers, as she rested her hand on his head.

“Bard,” he whispered. “Something is not right with Adila.  Thangon knows it, too.”

Bard looked thoughtfully at his dog’s behavior, and nodded. 

Thranduil signaled to Feren’s Second-in-Command, Captain Mablung, and gave instructions in rapid Sindarin: _“I want a dozen guards sent here immediately, then locate all our children, and take them to safety.  Say nothing, do not salute, but go now!”_

The Captain silently stepped back and was gone.

“What do you want to do?”

“Follow my lead,” Thranduil said quietly, then before he could stop himself, added, “and _trust me_ , this time!”   As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he had crossed the line, and regretted it.

Bard looked at him with hurt, then fury. “That was a cheap shot, you bastard!  I _have_ _been_ trusting you, even though we can’t find any evidence to support your premonitions, even though the kids have been nervous as shit for weeks and they’ve been walking on eggshells around you!  _How dare you_ act like you’re the only one who wants them to be safe?  How _fucking_ dare you?”

“Bard, I—"  Thranduil closed his eyes in consternation.

“I’m done talking to you about this.” Bard hissed, then stepped forward to receive their visitors.  The Elven escort accompanied the Harad party, who rode into the Courtyard on black horses, with ornate saddles and bridles, decorated large tassels.  The King was sitting ramrod straight in the saddle, with an unmistakable arrogance of a man who is used to giving orders, and others following them, without question.

“I bid you welcome to Dale, Your Illustrious Majesty.  You have come much earlier than we expected, so please forgive our lack of preparation.” Bard bowed, keeping eye contact with the King, as he touched his forehead, his mouth and his heart.

 _“Yemisigana simachihuni, yemisit’īrawīwi li‘uliwo.”_ Adila translated, as she looked at the ground.

The darker man returned the gesture, and seemed outwardly friendly.  _“Āmeseginalehu.”_

“His Majesty wishes to express his thanks.”

Bard gestured toward the Great Hall.   “You must be tired and thirsty after your long ride.  Come, enjoy some refreshments while I tell you about our efforts to care for your children.”

Adila repeated this in Haradhish, the party turned to go inside, but not before Thranduil quietly whispered some instructions in Sindarin to an Elf stationed outside.

Thranduil noticed that Thangon carefully put himself between Adila and the rest of the Harad Party, while he, of course made a point to place himself between the Harad King and Bard, and motioned for his Elven Guards to flank them, as they walked into the building, and Thranduil double-checked to make sure the doors to the back door were closed and guarded. Good.

The party sat down and attempts were made to get acquainted, as Bard gave him the details of the children’s stay in Erebor as well as Dale, but it seemed odd that the Haradhrim only asked cursory questions and seemed uninterested for their individual progress or welfare. 

“We have made arrangement for your stay at one of our guest house, Your Majesty.  Our Guards will be happy to escort you there, so you might get some rest, then tomorrow, I will take you on a tour of the facilities, so you can meet the children.  They have been looking forward to showing you their accomplishments while we have fostered them.”

The King looked at Adila and spoke to her rapidly.

The woman turned to Bard and Thranduil.  “His Majesty thanks you for your kind hospitality, but would appreciate it if you could simply prepare the children for departure and have them brought to the Castle immediately.”

Bard was taken aback. “But can’t he wait one day!  Doesn’t he want to at least _visit_ the children first?”

Adila swallowed and averted her eyes.  “His Majesty does not wish to travel during the summer months, My Lord.”

And that’s when they knew.  This man made no reference to his earlier message stating the King of Harad would not even be here until the _end_ of June.  And Adila did not give her King the traditional greeting of prostrating herself before him.

And _not_ _once_ did she refer to him as “His Illustrious Majesty.”

 _“Tirith,”_  Never changing expression, Thranduil kept his eyes on the Harad King and spoke quietly in Sindarin, “ _Gadas; Savo chûr an dagor.  Si!”_

As one, the Elven Guards drew their swords and grabbed their counterparts, just as the King of Harad grabbed Adila, and held a knife to her throat.

“Let them go!” he said, in _perfect Westron._   “Let them go, or I’ll kill her; I swear!”

“Please!” Adila sobbed, as she grabbed at his arms and scrabbled for a foot hold.  “Do as he says!  They’ve taken my children!”

“Shut up, bitch!” 

 _“Leithio din,”_ Thranduil raised his hand, and the Elves released the men. 

“Good lads,” the Impostor said.  “Now, throw down your weapons.  Do it now, or she’s dead and so is what’s left of her family.”

The Elvenking nodded, and it was done. 

Adila whimpered as the Impostor grabbed her tighter, and started dragging her backwards toward the door.  “Please don’t hurt my children!  I’ll do anything you want!”

“I said, shut the fuck up!” he smacked her hard in the face with the butt of his knife, causing blood to flow from her nose. 

“What do you want?” Bard demanded. 

“You’re going to hand over those kids and let us leave the City without any trouble or this woman and her children are dead!  You got that?” And he yanked her back, toward the double-doors.

“Wait!” Bard jumped forward.  “Look, take me, instead!  I’m a more valuable hostage, anyway.  Let her and her children go, and I’ll go with you.”

“Bard –“  Thranduil began.

The Imposter shook his head with a laugh.  “Oh, no.  The Boss has plans for you, and I wouldn’t dream of spoiling his fun!”  He jerked Adila up again, and she screamed.  “Now, open those fucking doors!”

Thranduil’s stomach flipped.  _The Boss?_ Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Bard noticed it too.

_Oh no…_

The Imposter’s men went through the doors, with the Elves and Bard following them at a distance. Thangon was in the front, his body lowered almost to a crawling position, with a menacing growl.

“You’d better call that fucking dog off, or this Lady loses her head, do you hear me?”

 _“Hautë, Thangon!”_ Bard ordered.

The dog stopped growling, but still moved ahead, carefully.

 _Please…  let them be there,_ Thranduil prayed.  _Please…  Dhen iallon, Eru Ilúvatar…_

They were all on the dais, still moving backward when Thranduil and Bard heard a quiet whistle…

In an instant, several Elves jumped from their hiding places behind the archways, and seized the men and their weapons.  The Captain grabbed the ‘King’s’ arm and pulled it away from Adila so hard everyone could hear it break.  Adila fell to the ground in a sobbing, bloody heap, just as Thangon let out a fierce roar, and his powerful body flew over her back, his front paws landed on the Impostor's shoulders. Before anyone could blink, the giant dog had him by the throat, and snapped his neck with a vicious shake of his jaws.

The Impostor-King of Harad was dead before his body hit the ground.

Bard rushed forward and grabbed Adila.  “Are you all right?”  He grabbed a kerchief from his pocket and tried to stop the flow of blood from her nose.  “What happened?”

“I was waiting for the children to come home from school,” Adila gasped tearfully, “Bron was at the Forge in the back and…. they k-killed him!” She sobbed. “They murdered my Bron, My Lord...”.

“I’m so sorry,” he put an arm around her shoulder. “I need you to tell us everything you remember.  Can you do that?”

”T-They put this…rag over my mouth, and I passed out.  When I woke up, they told me they had my children and if I didn’t do exactly what they said, they would kill them, too!” Her words were followed by a cry of grief that hardly sounded human.  Bard held her against his chest and looked up at the Elvenking in shock.

Thranduil looked at the Captain. “Did any escape?”

“No, My Lord.”  The Elf answered, as the prisoners were being tied up. 

Bard was holding Adila, and trying to stop the flow of blood from her face, when they heard the Alarm Bells go off, all over Dale, and his eyes met Thranduil’s in shock and horror.

“Captain, have Mistress Adila taken to the Healing House immediately, and send some troops to her house to attend to her husband.  See if they’ve located the rest of our children.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

The Elvenking address the three other Elves.  “Make haste to Lord Ben’s house, and stay with them, until we send for them.  Do not allow them to leave, for _any_ reason!” Then he turned to the Elves who had escorted the Harad party. “Get down to Hope Field and protect our children!”

“Right away, My Lord.” And they, too were gone.

Thranduil turned the Man who had posed as Aide to the Impostor, grabbed him by the hair, and dragged him back into the Great Hall by the hair and threw him into a chair in front of the table.

“Hold his hands down.” He said, with a voice so low and full of venom, the Man nearly fainted.

 

***************

 

**Hope Field, 29 th of May 2943 T.A.**

Tauriel and the children were cantering between the fields with Turamarth, when something pierced her peripheral vision to the left.  She turned her head toward Dale, and saw a light blinking in one of the upper windows near the lower part of City.

What in the world was that?

She quickly brought her horse to a stop to find out what was going on, but as soon as she did so, she realized her mistake, as a dozen field workers, dropped their tools, picked up weapons and began to run towards them.  Three of them had expertly nocked their arrows and took aim at them.

With a sudden scream, _Bregolas,_ Bain’s stallion reared on his hind legs, as an arrow hit the horse in the flank, just missing the boy’s leg.  Bain tried to stay on, but it was no use, and he was thrown.  _Bregolas_  just missed him, as he fell to the ground on his side.

 _“Tur!”_ She screamed at the other Guard in Sindarin.  _“Send the boys to Erebor!  Quickly!  They are after the Prince!”_

Quick as lightening, she yanked her bow from behind and began to shoot their attackers.  There was at least a dozen of them, perhaps more and she was picking them off as fast as she could, but too many were getting close…

Turamarth turned his horse from the head of the line and shouted orders in Quenyan to Bowen's and Rhys’s horses.  _“Beratín! Vórima! Auta ten orofarnë!  Auta!  Noro lim! Ego! Ego! Ego!”_

Instantly the horses took off like the wind toward the Lonely Mountain, with the boys hanging on for dear life.  Turamarth reached Bain first, leaped down from _Sandastan_ and just about threw the boy into his saddle.

“Keep down!  Draw your sword, Bain, and do not be afraid to use it!”  Turamarth yanked his sword out of its scabbard.  “Tell the Dwarves what his happening and sound the Alarm!  Go Bain, Go!”

“But what about you?” the boy asked.

 “There is no time to argue!”  He smacked the horse hard on the withers.  “ _Auta, Sandastan! Ego! Auta!_

Quickly the Guardian raced over to the the large group of men who were trying to chase the boys as Tauriel, who was still astride her horse ran to face the rest of them.  Once she was near, she jumped from the saddle and landed with a somersault on her feet with her knives at the ready, and snapped an arrow aimed for her in half.  With a blood-curdling yell, she took on the three men who were surrounding her and quickly dispatched with them, as blood and body parts when flying.

Within ten minutes, Tauriel and Tur were standing in the bloodied field, surrounded by the bodies of fifteen men.  There was a cut on Tauriel’s face and her left arm, but she was otherwise unharmed.  Turamarth had been stabbed in the leg and was limping a bit, but the wound wasn’t deep, so he wasn’t too worried.

“Are there any left alive?”

“I do not know…”  Turamarth carefully stepped among them, then grabbed one of the men, and after quickly disarming him, lifted him up by his shirt.  “I found one!  He was trying to play dead.”

“Good! We’ll take that one to the King for questioning.”

The blonde man was bleeding from a superficial wound to the arm and leg, and struggled mightily against Turamarth, as several men on horseback rode up to them and the Elves immediately raised their weapons.

“What in Mordor happened here?” the older man demanded.

Tauriel didn’t answer, she looked toward Erebor and saw the three horses, carrying the Crown Prince and his friends reach the entrance to the Lonely Mountain.

“They tried to assassinate the Crown Prince and Lady Tauriel.” Turamarth answered the Farmer.  His sword was still at the ready.  “Convince me that you are not one of them, and I will let you live.”

“Whoa!  Whoa!  We’ve come to help!  I’m Jarvis, the owner of this farm, and these are my sons.”

“Holy shit!” the man next to Jarvis said.  “It’s those guys to came to town in April to help with the planting!  You mean-–“

“Who is this man?” Turamarth shook the one still alive, who was struggling to get away, despite his wounds.

“That’s Monty.  Or at least that’s what he said his name was.  And they were trying kill Lord Bain?” The farmer’s son spit at the prisoner. “You fucking aresehole; I want to kill you myself!”

“No!” Tauriel ordered. “Master Jarvis, you will help us identify all the men from that group, then you will accompany us to see the King.”

“You bet.” Jarvis nodded to the others.  “Judd, go back to the house and get all the payroll records for those men and their reference letters.” The farmer gave Monty a furious look. “The rest of you, help tie up that son of a bitch, and see to his wounds.  Don’t you let that bastard die!”

Instantly Judd took off toward the farmhouse, and the others ran over and took charge of their prisoner.

 “Tauriel?”  Tur walked over to stand beside a Tauriel.  “Where’s your horse?”

 She didn’t answer, but looked toward the City.

 _“Man te?”_ he whispered in Sindarin.

“This was too easy,” Tauriel said, suddenly. 

“What in blazes do you mean, My Lady?” Jarvis was incredulous, as he looked down at all the dead bodies.  “Look around you, lass!”

“These men attacked when they were given a signal from Dale.  I saw the reflections from that building.  There is more to his than we know.”

Then they heard the Alarm bells go off in Dale.

 _“Ai gorgor…”_ Turamarth met Tauriel’s eyes in horror.  “Was all this just a diversion?” 

 

***************

 

**The Great Hall, City of Dale, 29 th of May 2943 T.A. **

Bard swallowed, as he watched his husband hover over the Impostor-Aide, while the Captain and Rúmil held him down over the table.

Thranduil had been transformed into the same terrifying, ruthless warrior he remembered from the Battle of the Five Armies, and though he seemed a stranger to him at this moment, Bard was grateful for it.

 “Now,” Thranduil said, casually, as he pulled out his knife, and ran his fingers along the edge, to check the blade.  “I am going to remove your fingers, slice by slice, until you tell me what I need to know.”

The man spit at him, but then quickly screamed as the Elvenking’s knife slammed down and chopped off the end of his pinky.

“You know…  If I take them off at the tips, where all the nerve endings are, it will hurt much worse.  What do you think, Lord Bard?”

“Works for me.” Bard’s lip curled.  “When he’s done with your fingers, your ears, your nose, and your cock are going to be sliced off like a loaf of bread.  Now: why are you here, and who the bloody fuck is this 'Boss?'”

“I don’t kn-  AH!”  the man screamed again, as he lost another fingertip. 

“Wrong answer, I think.”  The Elf tilted his head.  “Shall we try again?”

“H-he is here…”  The man whimpered. 

“The Boss is here?  What is his name?”

“He’ll kill me!”

Thranduil shrugged.  “You are going to die anyway, it is just a matter of how long I can draw it out.” Off came another fingertip, and there was more screaming.  “Now, let us try again.  You have killed Mistress Adila’s husband and taken her children?  Why?”

The Impostors teeth began to chatter from the shock.  “He – The Boss – wants his property back.”

“Property?  What property?”

“The ch-children from the brothel!”  The man panted. “He said he wants them back!”

“Who is your Boss?  What is his name?”  

“I d-don’t know, but he’s with Tim and Harry!” the man quickly answered, as the Elf’s knife was ready to strike again.

“Tim?” Bard went pale.  “Oh, holy shit…  That handyman…”

“MY LORD!”  Two Elven Guards burst through the doors of the Great Hall, “The Orphanage has been attacked.  Two dozen men tried to storm the building –“

“Are the children safe?”

“They are now, My Lord.  We stopped them, and the children are locked in and we have doubled the guard.”

“How many dead?”  Thranduil didn’t take his eyes off his prisoner.

“Fourteen of theirs, several of ours have been injured,” Gerion, Rúmil’s Second-in-Command, stepped up and spoke.  “but, My Lord, they…  tried to evade capture by turning their weapons on themselves…”

 _Oh, gods…_   Bard and Thranduil’s eyes met. “That’s what the bandits did in the raid on that village...” he screamed at the Imposter,  _“What the bloody fuck is going on here?”_

Thranduil continued to stare at the prisoner, with narrowed eyes, as the Bells continued to ring.

Thranduil pointed his dirk into the prisoner’s throat.  “Where is he?”

“You’re too late!” the phony King of Harad was shaking from the pain.

With gritted teeth, the Elvenking chopped off two pieces of the man’s fingers.  “Stop playing games!  Tell us what you know!”

Just then, two more Elves came running into Hall.

“Lord Thranduil!  Lord Ben’s house was attacked!  The Princesses and Lady Rhian have been kidnapped!”

As the Kings absorbed that news, their attention was turned back to the ‘Aide,’ who suddenly broke out in a hysterical, shaky laugh.  “They were gone before I even came through the gates.  You’re too late!”  The man sneered, as saliva dripped from the side of his mouth.  “You w-want to know where The Boss is?  Find your kids.  If you want what’s left of them, that is!”

Before Bard had chance to lurch at the man, Thranduil let out a blood-curdling roar, yanked out his sword and cut the man’s head clean off, with such a force that it went flying, then roll all the way across the floor.  As if in a dream, Bard watched it roll, and when it finally stopped along the opposite wall, and the sneer was frozen forever on its face.

“Dispose of that mess,” he ordered two Guards of the lower rank.  “Send a dozen troops to our Hunting Lodge and make sure Lord Percy and Lady Hilda get back here safely.  Get a message to the Palace.  I want Feren and as many soldiers has he can muster to clear the forests between here and the Palace at once!”

Thranduil grabbed Bard’s arm and made sure he had his sword.  “The rest of you, let’s go!”

 

***************

 

Ruvyn had been guarding the back door of Lord Ben’s house when he heard a strange noise behind the high, stone wall at the far end of the Garden.  He had drawn his sword and had gone to investigate, when suddenly two armed men jumped over the wall, and engaged him, but a hand grabbed him from behind, then his mouth and nose were covered with a cloth, full of strange fumes, then everything went black. 

He couldn’t have been unconscious very long, because he heard whispering, and the stomping of horses.  He quickly assessed himself for injuries, and realized his upper left arm had been cut, but not too badly, so he grabbed his kerchief and with his teeth, managed a rough bandage.  Then he crawled through the bushes around to the side of the house, where they had backed up a large, covered wagon. 

There were eight of them total, and he froze in horror, he saw them carry the sleeping (Please, Valar, let them just be sleeping!) bodies out the side window, and into the back of the wagon.  As soon as they were loaded, one of them – their leader, he thought – shut the door, locked it and addressed four of them who had been standing there with bows and arrows.

“You lot go down to the fields and help the others get the Prince and that redheaded Elf.  We’re off.”

“Yes, Boss,” they said and left.

Which now left four of them.

Ruvyn quickly took stock.  He was just too woozy to fight, and they had taken all his weapons, even the throwing knives in his boot, but he had to do something…

Just as they shut in the back of the wagon, and made ready, he crawled underneath it and hung on to the undercarriage and hung on as the vehicle began to move.

 

***************

 

_Rocking…  rocking….   They were rocking in Da’s boat…. The water must be rough on the Lake today…_

_Sigrid tried to open her eyes, but she was lured back to sleep by dreams of her rooms at the Palace with its white, smooth walls and wooden vines carved along the ceiling._

_She was in her feather bed at the Palace in her party dress and tiara that Da and Ada had given her.   No.  She wasn’t in bed.  She was swaying in Ada’s arms and they were dancing across the patterns of inlaid wood on the floor of the Dining Hall…_

_“Iellig, it is a privilege to dance with the loveliest girl here.” Ada said, and he kissed her brow, then swung her around and suddenly they were dancing in snow and her skirts were kicking up giant snowflakes flew up to the sky and became stars._

_“I love you, Ada,” she smiled up at him._

_“I love you, Sigrid,” she heard a voice say, but it wasn’t Ada.  It was her mother, who was wearing the blue dress from her portrait…_

A jarring bump, and the vision vanished, and Sigrid found herself in darkness.  With a groan, she sat up. 

“Oh, thank the Valar,” Hannah said, tearfully.  “I wasn’t sure if you were going to wake up.”

There was Rhian and Hannah across from her, each holding and comforting one of Mistress Adila’s children.

“Where are we?  What’s happening?”  She looked around, and saw her sister, still asleep.  Someone had covered her with a blanket, and placed a pillow under her head.

“Tilda?” she shook her younger sister, but the little girl did not stir. “Tilda?”

“I’ve been checking and she’s still breathing.”

“What happened?” Sigrid asked again, but then she stopped.  “Oh…” she whispered, as flashes of memory reached through the fog and slammed into her. “They… smashed in the windows and the doors…”

Rhian said nothing, but scrunched her eyes tight as the tears fell, and she held on to Adila’s little girl even harder.  No one dared mention baby Darryn, because no one dared even wonder what happened to him.

“What do they want?”  Sigrid asked quietly.  “Who would do this?” She laid down next to her sister and held her tight and put her ear on Tilda’s chest to listen to her heart.

“I wish I knew,” Hannah answered.  “They haven’t said a word.”

“Who would hate us that much?” She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, as she looked at her sister’s face, and tried to pull herself together.  Tilda’s life depended on her, and she _had_ to keep herself and her sister calm.

And the wagon - for a wagon it was (the kind that were seen parked out in Hope Field for months now.  Had someone stolen it?) just kept moving and rocking, and they could hear the voices of the men talking.  She looked up to her left, towards the front, and saw the silhouettes of three men in the large window in the front, with the light from the setting sun to the right of them.

Rhian and Hannah were both sitting on the narrow bed, on the other side of the wagon, and the door was to her right, but she had no doubt that was locked.

Right then…. Sigrid took stock of the situation:  A window in the front, big enough for them to crawl through, but the two small, round ones on either side were only big enough to let in a little light.  If the sun was to her right, they must be headed South, for all the good that knowledge did her.  Even if she could escape, she’d never leave Tilda or the others behind.  But maybe Rhian…

She crawled toward the front of the wagon and in the darkness, tried to feel along the front wall underneath the window.  There was box seat with a lid, and when she lifted it, she found it empty, except for a couple more blankets.  _What were you expecting, weapons?_ She asked herself, as she took them out and handed them to the others.

“Here.  We need to keep ourselves from going into shock.  I know they don’t smell great, but they’ll do.”

“Phew,” Rhian made a face.

“Maybe they’ll smell better, once they’ve aired out.” Hannah said, hopefully.  “Sigrid’s right: we need to keep warm.”

Once the box was empty, she felt around the bottom and sides.  “Hang on a minute…” she whispered.

“Did you find something?” Rhian sat up and adjusted the child in her lap.

“There’s some sort of trap door that opens out under the driver’s seat.  It must have been put there when the wagon was made, in case there’s a fire or something.”

Well, then we can get out!  They’re made to open from the inside, aren’t they?”

Sigrid checked further, and felt indentations in the wood.

“They’ve taken out the latch,” she whispered with a strangled voice.

“Oh, my gods…” Rhian sniffed.

They were trapped.

Sigrid pulled her sister into her lap and scooted into the corner.  Tilda began to stir.  “Sig?  Where are we?” she whispered sleepily.

“Shh…” Sigrid stroked her head.  “Just relax, Til.  I’ve got you.”  She grabbed the extra blanket and wrapped it around both of them.

“I want Mam,” Tilda murmured, quietly just as she had the day of the Battle. 

“I know, Beanie, but Da and _Ada_ will come get us real soon.”

“I’m tired.”

“Go back to sleep then.  I’m here, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”  Sigrid rested her cheek on the top of Tilda’s head and sang softly to her, and prayed Tilda would sleep through this, or there was no telling what could happen.

 _Please…_  

 

***************

  

**City of Dale, House of the City Planner, 29 th of May 2943 T.A.**

Thranduil’s heart was in his throat, as he and Bard reached Ben’s house.  He noticed bloodstains on the front porch, and it looked like a dead body had been dragged inside.  Thangon had raced inside the house, whining, and several Guards were poking around outside, looking for clues.

“My Lords! In here!”  A voice called to them from inside, and as they rushed inside, they saw a blood-stained sheet covering a body inside the foyer.

“Oh holy gods…” he heard Bard gasp under his breath.

They raced through the front hall, and Thranduil’s heart skipped a beat when they found the house in _utter chaos;_ the furniture was upended, and there was broken glass and pottery everywhere, which meant the women had put up quite a fight, but did they survive it?

Thranduil saw something under the dining table, which had been shoved against the wall, and kicked away the broken pieces of chair, and all the self-control he tried to muster, he couldn’t help the sob that escaped his throat. 

It was Charlotte, Tilda’s doll.

“What the bloody fuck happened here?”  Bard gritted his teeth and looked around. 

“My Lord,” a voice said weakly.  “I tried…”

It was Ivran.  He was sitting up against against the wall, supported by Rúmil, who was examining the arrow protruding from his stomach, and had several cuts on his arms, and a small one on his face.

Thranduil squatted down and looked him in the face.  “Tell me what happened.  Who is that?” he pointed to the covered body.

“It is Meldon, My L-Lord.” Ivran’s teeth chattered from pain, and his voice was shaky.  “We w-were by the front door, and arrows came from n-nowhere.  He was shot in the throat, and I…” he looked down.  “I managed to get into the house, but I…  passed out, and when I woke up, they were gone.” The Guard was near tears.  “I am s-so sorry, My King…. I failed…”

“Where is Ruvyn?”  Thranduil put a hand on the Guard’s shoulder.

“I do not know.  He was assigned to the back door, M-My Lord.”

The Elvenking looked up at a Guard.  “Check the backyard.  Now!”

“We did, My Lord.  There is no sign of Ruvyn, but there is some blood by the garden wall.  It is not much; most likely just a cut.”

“Could he have tried to follow them?” Bard asked.

“I pray he has.”  Thranduil’s eyes did not leave Ivran’s injury.  “I believe you must to wait for the Healer, _Mellon_.” 

“I have been trying to control the bleeding, My Lord,” Rúmil told him.  “He was shot in the liver, but the arrow did not puncture his intestines, which is a good sign.”

“Where is everyone else?” Bard asked.

Ivran began to shake from the pain, and he was turning grey.  “I d-do not know, My Lord…. I am s-sorry –“

“You did your best,” Bard tried to comfort him.  “Just be still and let them help you, Ivran.”

“We found this, My Lord.”  One of the Elves handed Thranduil a handkerchief. 

He sniffed it, and took in the strong, smell.  “I think I know what this is, but give it to Ermon when he gets here.  Did someone send for him?”

Just as the words were uttered, Ermon raced with his bag, followed by an Assistant.  “Who is the most injured?”

“I am f-fine,”  Ivran answered.   “They put Evan in the Rhian’s room.”

The Healer looked at him intensely.  “You are _not_ fine, but I will deal with you in a moment.”

“Where is Darryn?”  Bard asked, suddenly.  “Oh, gods…. Did they hurt the baby?”

“The child is in there, as well,” Rúmil told them.

Ermon led the way with his bag, followed by the Kings.  Evan was on the bed, and two Elves were trying to tend him. 

“My Lords,” the man tried to sit up and cried out in pain.  His face was bloody and bruised, his shoulder looked like it had been dislocated and his upper leg was wrapped in a bloody bandage.

“Lie down, Man!” Ermon ordered as he walked to the bed. “This instant!”  Once Evan’s was prone, he lifted the lid of each eye.  “Did you get knocked out?” he asked.

“He was unconscious and bleeding in front of the child’s crib.” One of the Elven Guards answered.  “He just now woke up.” 

Thranduil came over and leaned over Evan. “Tell me everything you remember.”

“We heard a quick yell outside, and they were coming in all the doors and windows at once…  The girls screamed, and fought with them, but they held these cloths over their mouths, and they all passed out...” Evan closed his eyes. “I’m sorry...  I tried to stop them...” A tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

Thranduil handed the strange-smelling kerchief to Ermon.  “Is that what I think it is?”

Ermon sniffed.  “Sweet oil of Vitriol.[1]  It is used by the world of Men, for surgery, and can knock a grown man out in seconds.”

“Will it hurt the girls, do you think?”  Bard asked. 

“It will render them unconscious, to be sure, and this does not smell like they used a great deal of it, but I cannot know for certain.”

“Will it hurt Tilda and her heart?”

Ermon sighed.  “Perhaps, but it could also help her, My Lord.” He gave the Kings a sympathetic look.  “It would prevent prolonged anxiety, which is much more dangerous to her.”

Bard closed his eyes. _We don’t know.  There is still hope.  Hang on to the hope…. Hang on…_

The Healer looked down at his patient, and examined his shoulder.  “I am going to keep this, and use it when I put your shoulder back in.”

 “We need him to talk, first.” Bard told him firmly.  “I’m sorry, Evan, but every moment counts.”

“I know.”  He was pale, but agreed.  “Two of them grabbed Rhian, she screamed at me to go protect the baby.   I didn’t want to leave them…” Evan swallowed, “I didn’t want to, but when I saw one of them head for the nursery…”

“You did the right thing.” Thranduil assured him.  “Keep going.”

“I heard more screaming behind me, then it was quiet...  One of the men was man was about to grab Darryn...  I don’t know how long we fought, but suddenly one of them yelled “ _Harry, leave the brat!  We’ve got what we came for!’_  Then he slammed me over the head with something hard and… everything went black.” He looked at Bard.  “They didn’t take baby, did they?  Is he all right?”  Evan tried to sit up again and screamed when he moved his shoulder.  “Oh, shit!  Oh, shit, shit, shit! That hurts!” he sobbed. “Where’s Darryn?   Please... tell me they didn’t hurt him!”

“No, he is fine.  You saved him,” Bard told him, just as Ermon held the kerchief over Evan’s face and told him to inhale, Thranduil went into the next room where an Elf was holding the child, who had cried himself into exhaustion.  Darryn’s face was red and tear-streaked, but he laid his head on the Guard’s shoulder and was sucking his thumb, between hiccups.

“Did you find any injuries?”

“Just some bruising on one of his arms, My Lord, but he seems otherwise unharmed.”

When Darryn saw the Elvenking, the baby held out his arms and started to cry again.  “Shh…   You are safe, _Adanneth…”_  He took the baby and tried to soothe him, _“_ We will find your mother as soon as we can.  Shh…” 

When Thranduil carried Darryn into Rhian’s room, Evan was still woozy from the whiff of the anesthesia, but Ermon had managed his shoulder back in, with a minimum of pain, and the man was doing a little better.

“Oh, thank the stars!” Evan had tears in his eyes, and his face crumpled.  “He’s not hurt?”

“Only slightly bruised, but he is fine.”  Thranduil handed Darryn back to the Guard, then followed Ermon back out to administer to Ivran, who was still under Rúmil’s care.  He had been carefully lifted onto a litter, and laid flat, so the Healer could examine his wound.

“Find me another one of those arrows. Quick!” Ermon barked, as he listened to Ivran’s heart.  “You were wise not to try and pull it out, Warden.   It might have killed him.”

Within seconds, an arrow was brought in from the front of the house, and they could see the barbs at the base of the broad head tip.”

 _“Rhaich!”_   The Healer cursed, and handed it back.  “It does not appear poisoned, and that is good, but I must push the arrow through to the other side.”  He addressed the Kings.  “If you need information, ask him now, because I am about to put him to sleep, to take him to the Healing House.”

“Can you tell me anything else, _Mellon_ _nîn_?” Thranduil asked, gently.  “Anything?  Was there anything strange going on in the street?”

“Yes.  A covered w-wagon that the field workers used was p-parked down the street.  I remember thinking it was odd to see one of them in the City…”

“That is enough,” Ermon said. “He cannot take anymore.”  He put his hand on the Guard’s forehead and administered the _losta-luith._

Thranduil’s eyes met Bard’s in horror.  Their children, and the others had undoubtedly been subdued and placed in that wagon.  But to where?

Just then Thranduil’s ears registered Thangon’s loud whining and looked over in the corner of the room, where he had been frantically pawing at the overturned couch in the corner.

“Bard…”  Thranduil called to his husband, and they got up and went to see.

Together, they lifted the couch away from the area, and Bard fell to his knees.

”Oh, dear Valar...  No...” Bard sobbed.

Just at that moment, a gust of wind blew through the broken windows and rippled across the black-and-white fur, like small waves.  For a split-second, they were fooled into thinking her chest was rising to take a breath, but no.  The wind died down, leaving her utterly still, and stretched out on her side.  She looked like she often did when she relaxed in front of the fireplace in the Sitting Room, as her family enjoyed their evenings, but the unnatural angle of her head told a different story.

To her last breath, Esta had tried to protect her Mistress.

Thangon raised his huge head and let out a long, mournful howl.

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Tirith_ – Guards

 _Gadas; Savo chûr an dagor.  Si!  -_ It is a trap; be ready for battle.  Now!

 _Dhen iallon, Eru Ilúvatar… -_   I beg of you, Eru, Father of All…

 _Beratín! Vórima! Auta ten orofarnë!  Auta!  Auta! –_ (Quenya) Beratin!  Vórima!  Flee to the mountain dwelling!  Flee!  Flee!

 _Ego!  Ego! -_   Go! Go!

 _Auta, Sandastan!_ – (Quenya) Flee, Sandastan!

 _Man te?_ – What is it?

 _Rúnë, Thangon!  Serë!_ – (Quenya) Off, Thangon!  Stay!

 

[1] Medieval form of Ether.  <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diethyl_ether>


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once he pulls himself together, Bard learns just what lengths he would go to, to save his children and his people, and Dain and Dwalin lend a hand.
> 
> The girls wake up in the wagon, and Sigrid is worried about her little sister.  They get some unexpected help, but there’s only so much he can do…
> 
> Will it be enough? Can they get there in time?
> 
>  

“The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet notwithstanding go out to meet it.”

** —Thucydides **

 

 

 

**City of Dale, 29 th of May 2943 T.A.**

Bard reached out and stroked the soft feathery fur of Esta’s coat.   His throat tightened painfully, when he felt the cold stiffness of her body.   He had hoped to adjust the dog’s head to a position that didn’t scream of her violent death, but her body was in full rigor, so that would have to wait.  Even then, nothing could change the fact that their beloved pet was dead, and his children, _his little girls_ had been taken...

_...could already be dead..._

_...and it was his fault._

Did Tilda see them break Esta’s neck before they threw her against the wall?  Or was she already unconscious by then?  He prayed Ermon was right, and if only Tilda could sleep through most of it, it might spare her weakened heart.

He knew his beautiful, strong Sigrid would do her best to be brave, and hold herself together like she always did, but she shouldn’t have to bear the impossible burden of keeping her sister alive, or the horrible guilt if she could not.

 Bard stood up and shook his head.   “This is my fault.  I did this...” he said quietly.  “I let this happen, and they could be dead now, because of me.”

“Bard, that's not true—" Thranduil’s voice was shaking, and reached out for him, but the Bowman pulled away. 

“Don’t you get it?  All of it has been one big _setup!”_ he put his hands on his head, to try and contain this unthinkable reality, but it did no good.“And Bain… Oh, Gods… What if something happened to Bain?  They planned all of this, Thranduil!   _Everything!_  Was the attack on your village just a ploy to get you out of the City, so they could do all this?”

“I think so,” Thranduil said quietly, staring down at Esta’s body, then picked up a shawl that had been lying on the floor and covered her up.  “They were careful, but yes, they must have been tracking our movements for quite a while, and that must have been what I was sensing—  Bard?”

But the Bowman wasn’t there.   He was in the back yard, vomiting. 

 _“Bard!”_ Thranduil dashed after him. 

The Bowman was doubled over with one arm around his middle and another propping himself against the back of the house.   He heaved and screamed and cursed and pounded his fist against the house, until his stomach was emptied, and still he pounded the stone wall, hoping the pain would somehow anchor his mind and stop it from spinning.

“Are you all right?”  Bard felt the Elf’s warm hand try tried to rub his back, but he jerked away. Thranduil was right; he had allowed all of this to happen and didn’t deserve to be comforted.  Right this second, he hated his husband for being right, but not as much as he hated himself, for not believing him.

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me! _Aah!”_ Another cramp doubled him over, and his stomach tried to heave again. “Shit!  _Oh, gods!_ ”  And he grabbed his middle again in pain as he heaved. “I... don’t have time...for this!” and he heaved again, until at last the cramps stopped, and he was trying to catch his breath.

 _“Meleth nîn_ ,” Thranduil began –

“Don’t!  This is my fault!  How could I be so fucking stupid?”  Bard gasped, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, to try and stop the tears of anguish and regret.  “How could I—“

“Stop it, Bard!”  Thranduil grabbed his shoulders and shook him, hard. “Stop!  This is not your fault!  We cannot afford these thoughts right now!  You must stop this!”

 “I didn’t—“

“Do you not see, Bard?”  Thranduil held him tighter and said, in a fierce whisper, “ _This_ is what they want, to destroy us, to tear us apart!  We _cannot_ let them win, do you understand me?  We cannot, and we will not!”

The Elf held Bard’s face and put their foreheads together.  “There will be a time to feel all of this, but it is _not now._   _Not this day!_ We must put _all our energy_ into finding them, do you understand?  _We will find them!_  Focus, Bard! Do it, now!  _Look at me!”_

Bard made himself ook into Thranduil’s stormy grey eyes, and fought to get his breathing under control. 

“In this moment, we cannot be parents, we cannot be spouses,” the Elf told him.  “We must be soldiers right now.  We must be Kings!  We **_will_** find them, do you understand?  We _will_ be strong, for their sake, Bard; we can do this for our children _– we have to!”_

“We can do this,” Bard whispered, forcing himself to take deep breaths. “We are Kings, today.”

 “We can, Bard, and we will not stop until our family is safe again.”

“We will get them back, and I will kill every last one of those fucking bastards, even if I have to do it with my bare hands, I swear.”

“Yes.”

 “I can do this.” Bard said the words, anxiety started to seep out of him, and was replaced by a determination and anger that filled him with energy.  He forced his voice to be firm and forceful.  “I can do this.”

“Yes, you can.” Thranduil looked into his eyes.  “Use that anger to focus!  Do it!”

Bard pulled away and stood up straight, threw back his shoulders, and set his jaw. 

“Let’s go get our family back.”

  _I can do this..._

When Bard and Thranduil ran back to the Castle, some Guards were cleaning up the Great Hall, and a blanket covered the body of the Imposter from Harad which had been placed on a litter.

“Where is Cook and the kitchen staff?” He asked on of the Guards holding a mop.

“In the back, My Lord.  We have that whole area under heavy guard, and they are all confined to quarters until you give the all-clear.”

“Good.” Bard picked up the burlap bag that was sitting on top of the blanket. “Did you hear anything else about the Orphanage?”

“They are safe, My Lord.   Dale is on complete lockdown, and the streets have been cleared.  Mistress Adila is at the Healing House, but I am afraid her husband was found dead in their home, My Lord.  There were signs of a struggle.”

Bard cursed under his breath. “Where are Bain and the others?”

“We are still awaiting word—“

Just then an Elf raced into the Hall.  “My Lord!  The Prince and his party were attacked on Hope Field!”

“Oh, shit...”  Bard’s heart skipped a beat.  “What happened?”

“The Prince and his friends were attacked by several of the traveling farm workers.  Lady Tauriel and Lieutenant Turamarth managed to get the boys to safety at Erebor and dispatched the attackers.  “They will remain there under King Dáin’s orders.”

“Are they all right?”

“Only minor injuries.  Lord Dáin and Master Dwalin are on their way, My Lord.”

Bard allowed himself a momentary relief, and his shoulders sagged.  At least Bain and Tauriel were safe...

_I can do this..._

Bard held the sack and went back outside, just in time to see King Dáin and Dwalin ride up on their ponies, followed by Farmer Jarvis on his horse.

The King Under the Mountain didn’t bother with any niceties.  “They’re all safe an’ sound in the Mountain, an’ I made Tauriel stay with ‘em, though the lass put up a real fight abou’ it.” 

“Thank you, _Mellon.”_ Thranduil said gratefully.

“Aye well, if they’re targetin’ the Royals I’m no’ gonna take chances.  Tur an’ Farmer’s lads ‘ave a prisoner, an’ they’ll be along shortly.”

Bard nodded then turned to the Elven Guard.  “Have them take the prisoner to the Dungeons, then send them to help clear the City.  Keep everyone on lockdown until every nook and cranny and house in Dale is checked.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

 “I can help with that, My Lord.” Jarvis reached into his Bag and pulled out some papers.  “I’ve got a list of names of the field workers.  I can’t speak to any others, but at least you’ve got a good start.”

“We do, thanks.  Take those names and go find Tom.”

“Right away, My Lord.” And Jarvis was off.

_I can do this..._

Bard turned to the Dwarves.  “The girls and several others have been kidnapped from Ben’s house.  They’ve killed Mistress Adila’s husband and taken her kids, too.” 

 “Holy feckin’ gods…”  Dwalin closed his eyes and shook his head angrily.  “Those bastards…”

“Do ye ken where they’d take ‘em?”  Dáin asked, angrily.

“We’re about to find out.” Bard said in a grim voice.  “Come with me.”

Bard and Thranduil filled the Dwarves in what they knew so far, as they headed toward the Northeast Tower, and they made their way down the long, narrow circular staircase and into the Dungeons, where the captured prisoners had been kept.

“I think this ‘Boss’ made sure only a few knew the entire plan, so we need to smoke out the leaders,” Bard told them. 

“I agree.”  Thranduil said.

“ ‘ow ye gonna do that?”

“With this,” Bard held up the bloodied burlap.  “Follow my lead and watch the men carefully.  I’m going to show them something, and I want you see who they all look at.”

“Wha’s in tha’ sack?”  Dwalin asked him, pointing to the bloodstained burlap in Bard’s hand.

“Something to motivate them.  Just watch their faces.”

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, they went through the torchlit hall to the largest cell on the end of the block.  A chair with a small table had been set up in front of the cell, ready for them.

Bard stood before them, opened the sack and yanked the ‘Aide’s’ severed head out by its hair.  Some of the men gasped, and he could feel the tension in the Dwarves beside him, and heard Dáin mumble something under his breath.  After holding it aloft for a few seconds, so they all could see the sneer frozen on its face, he tossed it at them, without a word. 

Most of the men stepped back without thinking, but there were a few who did not. 

Then Bard grabbed the bottom of the burlap bag, and viciously shook the sack so that the men behind the bars were showered with bloody finger parts. And all but two flinched:  a man with dark hair and eyes, and one with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes.

Then the King of Dale stepped towards the cell and narrowed his eyes at dark-haired man who refused to look away and had his arms crossed with a hateful smirk on his face.

“That one.” He said, without taking his eyes off the man.  “We’re going to start with him, and when we’re done, we’ll go on to this other one, but first, I want to introduce you all to my friend, here,” Bard gave them an angry smile.  _“Thangon, Cronhë!”_

At the command, the giant dog threw himself against the bars with a deafening snarls and bared teeth, making even the dark-haired man flinch.

“Looks like we’re gonna ‘ave some fun, lads!”  Dáin laughed, then used his red axe to point to the man.  “You heard the man; get ‘im out o’ there, and be quick about it!”

Two Elven Guards retrieved the man in question, and dragged him to the chair and forced his hands on the table.

“I’m not going to tell you anything.” The man’s lip curled at Bard.

“Oh, I _know_ you’re not going to tell _me_ ,” Bard said coolly, “But you _are_ going to tell _him.”_ He pointed with his thumb to Dwalin who grinned as he walked toward them and set two spikes and several knives on the table in front of him, then cracked his knuckles.

The man swallowed.

The tall Dwarf leaned down into the man’s face and said in a low, menacing voice. “Make no mistake, laddie, we’re gonna to find out everythin’ we need to know, or I’ll skin you, inch by feckin’ inch while all your mates here, watch.  You made the mistake of your life, thinkin’ you can put your hands on those any of those wee bairns, and now yer gonna pay, you feckin’ piece o‘ horseshit!  I’ve got all night, how ‘bout you?   Hold ‘im, lads!” He rubbed his hands together with a grin. “I’m gonna enjoy this!”

The Kings stepped back, and let the Dwarves get to work.

***************

 

**Forest in the South of Dale**

By the time the wagon finally stopped, Ruvyn had lost feeling in his hands and feet from gripping the undercarriage, but he didn’t dare move yet.

The brakes had been set and the men were climbing down from their seats high in front and from the back end.  Feet landed with a thump on the ground boots were walking around the vehicle, and the men were discussing plans amongst themselves. 

“Unhitch the horses, and put them with the others, at the edge of the clearing.”

“What then, Boss?”

“We wait.”  

Over the noise of that activity, the Guardian heard the voices of the women talking and trying to soothe the children. 

He listened carefully, and could make out all their voices but Tilda.  For a second, he thought she might not be alive, but no.  Sigrid’s voice was soothing…. If her sister were dead, she would be crying, would she not?  He thought about tapping the bottom of the wagon to let them know he was there, decided he didn’t dare risk it.  If one of children cried out, it could get them all killed.

Ruvyn carefully let go, landed flat on his back in the grass, and gritted his teeth, and forced himself to keep silent as the feeling of hot needles flooded his hands and feet as blood began to circulate.  He gritted his teeth as he wiggled his fingers and toes, to hasten the process.

The cut on his arm hurt badly, but he checked the wound.  It would need stitches, but at least it had stopped bleeding.  He used his teeth to re-tie his kerchief around his arm, and tried to get his bearings.

They must have traveled about five miles out of the City before he heard the alarm bells sound, so they probably had no idea they were even taken until it was too late.  They had traveled on the road for some distance, at a carefully casual pace, to keep from alerting any Guardians, who would think nothing of such a vehicle as they passed through quite frequently.    _These_ wagons had carried those traveling farm workers, who arrived six or seven weeks ago, and they all had seemed gregarious and friendly.  He’d had drinks with many of them in the Pub on a regular basis and often played Darts or rolled Dice with them!

Three Men rode on the wagon, but it appeared that two had been waiting for them, and had been sitting around a campfire.  Five in all, and his heart sank; he couldn’t take them all on, especially not without weapons, and an injury.  At best, he’d subdue a couple of them, but it wouldn’t  prevent the others from going for the wagon to kill the passengers.  More likely, they would threaten to kill one of them, until he surrendered, and there would be no use in that.

The sun had set, but the sky was clear, and the moon was full and bright.  Ruvyn’s Elven eyes could easily make out the distance to the trees surrounding the clearing, and he noticed that the men were starting a campfire a short distance from the rear of the wagon.  He craned his head up, to look behind him, past the front, and saw that the trees were farther away, where the horses had been tied up, and one man had been feeding them, but now was walking toward him, then past the wagon to take his place with the others, while a meal of some sort was being passed out.

“What are we gonna do with them, Boss?”

“Nothing, right now.  They’re gonna come looking for their precious Princesses, and when they do, we’ll take care of them.  Now, shut the fuck up.”

Ruvyn checked the area again, to make sure he saw all of them sitting down around the fire, then slowly and carefully, inched up toward the front the wagon, then underneath the bench seat, and grabbed hold of the tongue, where the horses had been hitched.  He put his hand flat on the front of the wagon, to slide further, and his right hand felt something made of metal, and he carefully searched the surface of the wood with his fingers to confirm his suspicions, and was thrilled to find them confirmed.

It was a trap door, praise the Valar!  He could open it and get them out! 

Then what?  These victims were children of Men and could not be silent like Elves, nor could they get up into the trees quickly.   They probably had been drugged, like he had been, and might still be too sluggish to run. 

And Lady Tilda couldn’t run at all, for that would stop her already-weakened heart.

Tears filled his eyes, as dread and regret washed over him.  He had no choice but to leave them here and go for help, and pray they wouldn’t be killed before he could come back.

 _“Díheno nin.”_ He whispered.  _Forgive me...  Forgive me..._

And with a silent prayer, begging Varda to help him them all, he silently crept to the trees, and into the forest.

And as soon as he was out of earshot, he ran like the wind.

 

****************

**Dungeons in the City of Dale**

It could take hours to find out what they needed to know, and every minute that went by put the women and children in more danger.  They had no time, and everyone knew it, but they had no other choice, did they?

Bard took a deep breath and prayed for a miracle, and he knew the others were, too.

Dwalin had already begun on the leader of the group of prisoners, when a shout was heard from the cell.

“My Lords!  I will tell you everything I know, just get me away from these people!”

Instantly, the dirty blonde man had him pinned down with hands around his throat.  “Shut your fucking being mouth, Bert!  You bastard!” 

“Get him out of there!” Thranduil shouted.

Thangon threw himself at the bars of the cell again with a deafening roar, which startled the man into letting go, just in time for the Elves to extricate the one called “Bert” from the cell and lock the door again.

Dwalin grinned at the dark-haired leader sitting at the table.  “Get this bastard up,” he ordered.  Two Elves got his hands free and when he was upright, Dwalin took his knife, and cut the laces of his leggings. “This is for those wee Princesses, you son of a bitch!” He snarled, and looked into his eyes as he sliced the man’s cock from his body.

“Throw him back in, so they can watch the bastard bleed to death!” He ordered.  “And know this!” Dwalin lifted his bloody knife and pointed to the remaining Men in the cell.  “Ye’d better start prayin, because if those bastards hurt _one hair_ on their heads, I’m gonna personally make sure you all lose your cocks, and make you choke on ‘em!”

The Kings looked at each other, then at Dáin, who shrugged nonchalantly.  “I’ve no argument with tha’.”

“Me either,” Bard agreed as they followed the Guards and Bert to another section of the Dungeons, away from the screaming, and put him in another cell.

“Talk, Bert, and it had better be good,” Bard’s mouth was a grim line. “Where have they taken my children?”

“It’s only a guess, My Lord, but I think they’re in a clearing we camped at about ten miles South of here, in the thicker part of the forest.  We used it a couple of times, and I think The Boss and Harry took them there.”

“What does your Boss want with my family?” Bard asked him.

“Nothing.” Bert told him.  “Except to punish _you_ for losing his business.  He said you stole his property, and you were going to pay.”

The King of Dale’s eyes narrowed.  “You mean the children from Harad _?”_

“Aye, My Lord.”  Bert shook his head.  “I didn’t know that at first, I promise you.  When I took this job, they made it sound like you were some crooked thief who stole your throne, took his money and his land or something like that but…”. Bert looked into the King of Dale’s eyes.  “I swear to you, sir; I didn’t know what this ‘property’ was, until I got here, but by that time, it was too late.”

“How long have you worked for him?”

“Just three months, My Lord, and only because my family was desperate - I don’t hold with hurtin’ kids, no matter whether you believe me or not.”  Bert look didn’t waver.  “They’re fuckin’ monsters is what they are, and I’m that ashamed I ever met ‘em.”

 “But why did you agree to come in the first place?”

“Half my family died from the Pox last winter, and now I’ve got three sisters, and six nieces and nephews with no one to support them but me!”  He looked back toward the passage were the dark-haired man was still screaming. “That was Chuck.  He came to me and offered me more money than I could make in two years back in the Wold, with a promise of more!  Him and Sandy – the one who jumped me just now - made out like it was some sorta ‘noble quest,’ and we were going to make things right…” Bert shook his head, and his voice broke.  “I should’ve known it was too good to be true, but I was just happy to put some food on the table, don’t you see?

“I admit I believed ‘em, and that’s my shame, My Lord.  But seein’ so much sickness and death...” he paused to take a breath, “it takes the heart right out of a man...” his face crumpled.  “Most of my friends, all my brothers, then my parents... they all caught the Pox an’ died within two weeks of each other.”  His voice caught.  “All I did for weeks and weeks and weeks was dig graves…  The Elves came to help, but by that time, half the village was dead, and those that didn’t die were too weak to get any of the planting done for next winter, so even those who were lucky enough to live, were going to starve!  I needed the money, My Lords!”

Bard crossed his arms and continued to listen, but he also sent a prayer of thanks that Dale had not been stricken with the plague, like so many others had been.  “Go on.”

“I was desperate to feed my family, don’t you see?  Then Chuck—“  he cursed again at the man moaning in his cell, “and those _arseholes_ come along, and it felt like my prayers had been answered.” Bert laughed bitterly.  “I never prayed so hard in all my life, and _this_ was the help the Valar sent?

“Now I know it’s wrong to speak against my King - I know that - but since I’m going to die anyway, I’ll tell you true:  King Fengel doesn’t give two shits what happens to us in the Wold.  He never did, so there was no looking to Edoras for help, was there?  Marshal Leód does what he can, but...” He shook his head.  “There’s no hope left in me, and I’ve get nothing for my family.”

“But why didn’t you come to us?”

“When I got here and learned the truth of it, I tried to quit, but they threatened to kill my sisters, and turn my little nieces and nephews into whores!  You _have_ to believe me - Chuck and Sandy know all their names, and where they live, My Lord!  They _really would_ kill them; I’ve seen it! There’s a bunch of us who are only here ‘cause we can’t get out of it, and we decided if we were caught to just do away with ourselves, so The Boss would think we fought to the death, then maybe wouldn’t kill our families  - it’s that bad, sir!”

“Look at me.” Thranduil reached through the bars, grabbed Bert’s chin, and looked deep into his eyes for several minutes as he spoke several words in Quenya.  “He speaks the truth, Bard.”

“What does your Boss want?”  Bard demanded.

“That’s just it; he doesn’t want _anything, except to hurt you!_  He’s fuckin’ crazy!  He doesn’t care if we die, or _you_ die and probably doesn’t even plan on getting out of this alive himself!  He only wants to make you watch, when he slaughters your kids!”

“Valar help us all,” The Elvenking whispered.  “And this Boss is Jarod?”

Bert’s face crumpled, and a tear escaped.  “Aye, My Lord.  And the man workin’ with him is named Harry.  That’s his Second.  There’s Chuck, Sandy, and another one named Monty.  They’re all Enforcers for the Boss.  That’s what I know for sure.”

“How did he know where we all would be?  He’s been having us watched, has he not?”

“Yes, My Lord.  Tim the handyman - he’s dead by the way – Tim was a spy for The Boss, and starting seeing one of the kitchen maids.  He was romancin’ her for information, you see, though he’s a poofter- “ he looked wide-eyed at the Kings and blushed.  “Beggin’ your pardon, sirs.  I meant no disrespect…”

“A kitchen maid?  Which one?”

“Wynny, the plump one with the red hair.  He’s got her so strung along, she’d do anything for him, wouldn’t she?”

“Wynny?” Bard nodded.  “Cook was complaining that she didn’t show up for work this morning.”

“Nualë,” Thranduil turned to a Guard.  “Go find this kitchen maid and bring her to the Great Hall at once.”  Then he turned back to Bert.  “And you truly think they have taken the women and children to this clearing in that wagon?”

“I do.  I can show you where it is, My Lord,” Bert offered. 

 “Why would you do this?  What do you want?”  Bard asked, warily.

“Just two things, I beg,” he swallowed. “Protect what’s left of my family, from these men, please!” 

“Where are they?”

“In Rohan.  It’s a village in the Wold called Langhold, sir.  I can give you their names…”

Bard met Thranduil’s eyes and gave a small nod.  “What else?”

“I deserve to die for what I’ve been a part of; I’ll not argue with that, and go willingly, for I can hardly live with myself anymore.  But if you could just write and tell them that I tried to help, maybe they won’t be _completely_ ashamed of me.”  A tear rolled down Bert’s face.  “I beg you, My Lord.”

Again, Thranduil saw no lie in his eyes.  “Bring me some ink and paper,” then he turned back to the man.  “You will draw a map of this place, then you will remain and tell the King Dáin and Dwalin everything you know, do you understand?”  Then he added in a kinder tone.  “If you completely cooperate, I will do what I can to help your family.”

The man tearfully grabbed and kissed Thranduil’s hand.  “Thank you, My Lord.  I don’t care what happens to me, but they don’t deserve my shame.”

The paper arrived, Bert drew the directions to the clearing he suspected they were at.  “I hope you find them, My Lord.”

 

***************

 

**Forest in the South of Dale**

The moonlight shone through the window in the side of the wagon, as it continued its mysterious journey, and Sigrid, Rhian and Hannah looked out at the stars.  The younger children had fallen asleep again, they all huddled together for warmth, as the vehicle rocked them gently.

With a jarring motion, everything stopped, and the children began to stir.

“Do you have any idea where we are?”  Rhian whispered.

“No.”  Sigrid answered. 

Adila’s little girl stirred and began to cry.  “I want my Da!” she wailed.

“Shhh…  lovey.”  Hannah rocked her.  “I’m sure they’re all out looking for us, and they’ll come and take us to your Da and Mam as soon as they can.”

“It’s too dark in here,” the boy said, who had looked to be about Tilda’s age.  “I’ve got to use the privy.”

“I know,” Rhian stroked his head.  Maybe we could –“

They all jumped as the back door opened and one of the men stuck his head inside.  “Keep your mouths shut, if you want to keep your pretty little heads.” 

“Please!” Sigrid pleaded.  “If it’s gold you want, my parents are very rich, and they will give you as much as you want.   I’ll stay and be your hostage, just please: let the others go.   My sister isn’t well, and she—”

The man laughed, and his white teeth gleamed in the moonlight.  “I’ve no doubt I could take all the gold in the treasuries of the North, little Princess, but don’t you worry: Your daddies are gonna pay a lot more than that, you’ll see.”

With a loud slam, the door was closed and locked again.  Then they heard the sound of liquid being poured all around the wagon and splashed against its walls.

“Oh, sweet Valar, help us...”  Hannah prayed, in a trembling voice.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, at the South Gate**

Within minutes of leaving the Dungeons, the rescue party was assembled.   While they were waiting for their horses to be brought to them, they received word that Wynny, the erstwhile kitchen maid had been found in her bed, with her throat cut.

“Tying up loose ends, I expect.”  Bard sighed, and ran his hands over his face.

Bard turned to Dáin, and opened his mouth to speak, but the King Under the Mountain beat him to it.

“I’ll look after things here, and we’ll clean that filth out o’ your City.”  Dáin, clasped his wrist, and put his and on Bard’s arm.  “May Durin protect ye an’ the wee lassies.  Get you gone no’ an’ come back with ‘em right quick.”

“Thank you, _Mellon_ _nîn_ ,” Thranduil’s voice was husky.  Bard couldn’t talk at all at this point, and just nodded his head.

Thank the Valar, the night was clear, and the moon was shining bright, as they gathered at the South Gate: Bard, Thranduil, all six Galadhrim, Captain Mablung, and eight Guardians. 

Ermon was also with them, with saddle bags crammed full of supplies, ready to see to injuries, but he wasn’t surprised when King Thranduil took him aside.

“Is there anything we can do for Tilda?” he asked anxiously. 

“My Lord, I have a bottle of Foxglove oil with me, should her heart falter.” 1  When he saw the look on the Elvenking’s face, he put his hand on his shoulder.  “Think only about their rescue and getting her to me, and I will do everything in my power to help her.  You must concentrate and not falter, _Mellon_.”

Thranduil swallowed and nodded, then went back to horse.

 Once they exited through the South Gate, _Fînlossen_ and _Naurmôr_ , seemed to understand their urgency, and outdid themselves with their speed and agility, as they covered mile after mile under the light of the moon.  Eventually the thick forest loomed up ahead in the moonlight, and suddenly a figure ran out to meet them.

Thranduil raised his hand and called out, _“DARO!”_

The party halted, and quickly dismounted, as the brown-haired Elf ran up to meet them with immense relief on his face.  “Bless the Valar you have come, _Aran nîn!”_ He was holding one arm across his middle and there was a rudimentary bandage on it, soaked in blood.

“Ruvyn!”  Bard cried.  “Have you seen them? Are they all right?”

“I hid under the wagon, Lord Bard, and I believe they were alive when I left them.” The Elf’s breath caught. “I…  I did not want to, but there are five men there and I had no weapons, and I feared they would kill the hostages if I tried to take them on.”

“You were right to do this,” Thranduil nodded.  “You are injured?”

“It is nothing.  They are three miles Southwest from here.” Ruvyn pointed, then bent over to catch his breath.  “I can lead you back.”

“Yes, but first tell us exactly what you saw…”

 Once Ruvyn had informed them of the location and layout, they decided to leave the horses at the edge of the woods, and proceed on foot.

As Thranduil finished hobbling his horse, he suddenly froze, as his sight became clouded over with a vision.

> _He was on the hill in Mordor, before the Black Gates, as the Dragon swooped down, it’s belly glowed in readiness, preparing to attack.  Thranduil quickly reached for his swords, but they were gone, and he was helpless against the Fell Beast, and this time the Dragon would win..., **2**_

Then he blinked, and with a gasp, he was in the forest once more.

 _Where was Bard?_ _He needed Bard_ …

He was over with Ruvyn.

“Bard, I must speak with you.”  He took the Bowman by the arm and walked a short distance away.

“What is it?”

The Elf was trembling.  “I cannot...”

“What?”  The Bowman snapped, more than anxious to get started.

“I cannot continue with this hurt and anger between us.” He swallowed hard and looked into Bard’s eyes.  “No one could have predicted the enormity of all this, and it was wrong of me to accuse you of being careless.  I was afraid, and I took it ou—"

“Are you _fucking_ serious?" Bard inhaled sharply, and angrily jerked away from his grip.  "You want to do this _now?_   _Now?”_

“I am sorry—“

“No!” Bard was incredulous.  “No! There’s no time for this shit!” He clenched his teeth and rubbed his forehead.  “Dammit, Thranduil!  _You_ were the one who said we can’t be anything but Kings and soldiers right now! Every _second_ we stand here dithering, means my children are that much closer to death, can’t you see that?” 

Thranduil lowered his eyes, in hurt and shame, and prayed his vision was wrong.

 

***************

 

Thanks to his enhanced sight, Bard could easily see the clearing up ahead, and to his horror, he saw the men with small casks in their hands, splashing at the sides of the wagon.  _Ulmo’s balls..._   They were soaking it down with oil!

Bard heard Thranduil gasp, and he could feel his terror through their _fëa._ He looked over and saw his face go white and his lips completely disappear, as he swore softly under his breath, and clutched his chest. Then he shook his head, as if to banish a thought, then Thranduil issued instructions:

“Mablung, take four of your troops and dispose of any man with the horses and silence the beasts.  Then we will make for the front of the wagon and get them out one at a time, through the trap door, and I will hand them to you.  Ruvyn, you wait over there with Ermon, and help him see to the hostages. _”_

“Yes, My Lord.”

 “Wardens, you will get into the trees, take aim, and wait for Rúmil’s signal.   _Do Not Fire_ until _all_ the woman and children are well clear, but if you see they have discovered us, kill them as quickly as you can, to prevent them from setting the wagon ablaze.”

“Why can’t you just kill them at first, and be done with it?” Bard demanded.

“Because one of them could still have a chance to start the fire.  All it would take would be a spark, and we would be too late.”  Thranduil looked at him solemnly.  “We just can’t take that chance, do you not see?”

Bard nodded and said nothing.  He hated it, but his husband was right. 

 _Please...  please..._   Bard silently pleaded with Ulmo, the Stars, Eru, the Valar, his wife Mattie, _anyone_ who might help them.

“Rúmil, you and your Wardens take your positions.” The Elvenking ordered.

“Yes, My Lord.”  Rúmil and the Wardens scattered.

“Bard,” Thranduil turned to him, not quite meeting his eyes.  “I know you want to be at the wagon, but you cannot be as silent as Elves, and we cannot take a chance…”

“No, you’re right.”  Bard reluctantly agreed.  “I’ll be in the trees, with Rúmil and the others.”  Turamarth had offered him the use of his bow and arrows, and was waiting to hand them over.

He turned to follow Rúmil, but felt himself jerked back and his mouth captured in a fierce kiss, that tasted of fear and desperation.

“I love you, Bard,” Thranduil’s voice was rough, “No matter what happens, please, _please_ remember that.  I truly am sorry, _Meleth nîn_ , but do not let our harsh words linger between us. Forgive me, not for my sake, but for your own, and never forget that I love you and our family, more than my own life.”  Then the Elf quickly turned away to join his group.

 

He was perched high up over the campsite now, and looking down at four men sitting around the campfire, eating, while the other one was feeding the horses.

From his left, he saw the Elves silently approach the men by the horses and incapacitate them, within seconds their bodies dragged into the darkness of the trees.  The others had spoken softly to the horses in Quenya to calm them, but not before one of them neighed loudly.

 _Oh shit…_ Bard and the rest froze waited.  All it took was one wrong move, and his children would be dead.

_Please... Please..._

Jarod looked past the wagon at the horses, then jerked his head toward one of the men.  “Get over there and see what’s the matter with Jerry.”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long do we have to wait, Boss?”

“As long as it takes.  They’ll be here, if they’re not watching us already.  But I want to make sure, so they can watch them burn.”

By now, the Elves had calmed the horses, but man still approached carefully, with his knife in his hand.  An instant later, he met the same silent fate as the other one. 

Then Bard saw Thranduil silently approached the wagon with the others, and got down on his hands and knees to open the trap door. 

Slowly, slowly, the door was lowered, and he could make out the surprised gasps of the hostages, but he doubted the men in the back could hear it over the roar of the fire. 

Thranduil was whispering, then carefully pulled out a small body with short hair – it must be Adila’s little boy – then held a finger to his lips to urge him to be silent, then spoke a few words in Quenya before he handed him to an Elf, who quickly carried him off into the darkness. 

_One..._

Bard’s breath caught, and his eyes filled with tears as he saw his Little Bean wrap her arms tight around Thranduil’s neck.  _Oh, praise the Valar!_   He could see the relief on his husband’s face, too, as he kissed her quickly, mouthed the words “I love you,” and handed her to Turamarth, who raced her towards the woods, where Ermon was waiting to examine her.

_Please...  please..._

Then Adila’s little girl was next, then Rhian, and Hannah… 

_Please..._

Just Sigrid left.  Why didn’t she come out earlier?  _Please, please,_ he prayed.  _Please save my family._    Just a few more minutes, and once they got Sigrid out and safe in the woods, the arrows would fly, and all those bastards would be dead.

_Please...  Please... get my little girl out..._

The wagon jostled slightly, and there was a squeal of pain.

_Oh, gods...  No, no, no, no, no..._

Jarod yelled and as he and the others jumped to their feet, “What the fuck is going on?”  He picked up a long stick that had been held in the fire, and looked up into the trees, straight at Bard as if he could see him.

_Could he see him?_

_Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh no, please..._

Rúmil let out a loud whistle, and the arrow after arrow flew through the air, killing most of them instantly, but Jarod somehow stood in the midst of all of it, and looked straight up at Bard and laughed, as tossed the torch toward the wagon…

“NO!”  Bard screamed.  “NO!”  The he tossed his bow and quiver aside and jumped.

 

***************

 

Thranduil heard the whistling sound of arrows flying through the air, just as he managed to yank Sigrid free, then threw her at the Mablung, who raced her to the trees.  

He was soaked with lamp oil, from lying in the grass, and had just managed to get to his feet, when the wagon burst into flames with a roar...

...and so did he.

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Thangon, Cronhë! –_ (Quenya) Thangon, Attack!

  _DARO!_ -  STOP!

 

 

**NOTES:**

[1] Digitalis, used to treat Cardiac problems by stimulating the heart.

 

[2] “…the flying Dragon was sent from the Tower of Barad-Dûr and was headed straight for Thranduil’s army.  Knowing they would be destroyed, Thranduil ran ahead, ordering his troops to stay behind, and swiftly made his way up onto the rocks at the top of a hill right in front of them.  Then, he hid behind a large boulder, waiting, with his own sword in one hand, and his Adar’s in the other, poised to strike.

All too soon, the Dragon descended.  The glow was in its belly and was starting to move up its neck; getting ready to spit fire.  As it swooped low over the hill, Thranduil leaped out from behind the rock, jumped atop it, then made an impossibly high leap into the air, as only an Elf can do.  He flipped forward in a somersault to give his sword-strikes more impetus, then uncurled his body and stabbed the Dragon in its vulnerable underbelly and held on, using the creature’s momentum against it to slice its gullet wide open, thus killing it.  But he was not unscathed.  The fire that had been building in the Dragon’s gut escaped, and it hit Thranduil dead on…”  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/24520668>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don’t hate me just yet...


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hostages have been saved, but the Elvenking is trapped.
> 
> Is this the end for him?
> 
>  

 

“Everyone keeps telling me that time heals all wounds, but no one can tell me what I’m supposed to do right now. Right now I can’t sleep. It’s right now that I can’t eat. Right now, I still hear his voice and sense his presence even though I know he’s not here. Right now all I seem to do is cry. I know all about time and wounds healing, but even if I had all the time in the world, I still don’t know what to do with all this hurt right now.”

** ― Nina Guilbeau, Too Many Sisters **

**City of Dale, 29 th of May 2943 T.A. (A few hours earlier)**

“What in blazes is going on here?”  Hilda marched into the Great Hall, closely followed by Percy, and saw King Dáin and several other Dwarves talking to the Elven Guards.  “What happened?” she demanded.  “We were in the Lodge, then a dozen Guards surrounded the place!  Where is everybody?”

Dáin went over and took her elbow.  “Ye both need te sit down.  Come on.”

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Percy put his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“Aye.  I canna tell ye otherwise.   Yer family’s been attacked, an’ four people are dead, along wi’ Tilda’s wee beastie.  Both the Princesses ‘ave been taken, along wi’ some others.”

There was no time to react, because the doors to the Great Hall burst open.

“My Lady!”  Adila came into the Great Hall, followed by a couple of Guards, one of whom was holding baby Darryn, who was still weepy, from his trauma.

The Blacksmith’s wife ran into Hilda’s arms and sobbed.  “They killed my husband, Hilda.  Bron is dead, and they’ve taken my children!”

At a nod from Dáin, an Elf stepped up to help them all to sit down, and Cook was right there with some strong wine. 

“She speaks true,” Dáin nodded to Adila, “an’ I’m sorry for it.  But there’s more goin’ on than ye know, and it’ll take some tellin’…”

Dáin carefully explained to them what happened on Hope Field, the Orphanage and at Ben’s house, then the Imposters from Harad.

“They were behind tha’ attack that took Thranduil outta the City.  They weren’t expecting ‘im te come back early, ye ken, but praise Mahal ‘e did.”

Percy’s face went white.  “Holy shit…”

Hilda’s hands were over her mouth, as she shook her head in disbelief.  “Oh…  That can’t be true…”

“How did they know to do all this?” Percy asked. “How could they possible know where we all were?”

Cook stepped up.  “M’Lady, I’m afraid Wynny was steppin’ out with one of them gang members, only she didn’t know it.  Seems he’s been wheedling her for information on your comin’s and goin’s for months, now.”  He looked devastated.  “I’m sorry, Lady Hilda.  I’d no idea he was doin’ that to her, or I would’ve chased him off with a club.”

“Where is she?” Hilda’s face went red with fury.

Dáin put his hand on Hilda’s arm.  “They killed the lass.  They found her earlier with her throat cut.”

“Oh, gods…” Hilda said in a small voice.  “I can’t believe all this!”  She glared at Cook.  “What happened?  How could she _do that to us?”_

“She didn’t mean no harm, I’m sure of it.”  The man cleared his throat nervously.  “I know she didn’t realize!  Wynny was just a shy young thing, with not much confidence, and this Tim - you know, the handyman?  He seemed like a decent enough bloke, M’Lady, but had her wrapped around his finger.  I know what she did was wrong, and I’m not disputin’ any of that, but he toyed with Wynny’s affections, to get information.  They found _him_ dead, too.”

Percy sighed heavily.   _“Tim? He did that?_ How’dyou find all this out?”

“One of the prisoners told King Bard, before they left.  Seems Tim never cared for her – he doesn’t care for girls at all, in fact.”  Cook’s eyes welled in sorrow and anger, and gave Hilda a defiant look. “But she was a kind-hearted lass who didn’t deserve what happened to her, no matter what anybody says.  Wynny was a good girl, M’Lady, and she loved working here!  Those bastards used her and threw her away, like she was trash!”

Hilda sat back and shook her head.  “No, you’re right – no one deserves that, and she was sweet girl.  She doesn’t have any family, either, does she?”

“Just a young cousin, M’Lady, and the boy’s been adopted by some Elves.   Her Mam and brother never made it outta Laketown, and her Uncle died in the Battle.”  Cook shook his head.  “I’ve been keeping an eye out for her, and if I had any idea that bastard Tim meant her any harm, I would’ve bashed his head in!”  His voice caught.  “I didn’t see it…  I just plain didn’t see it…”

“You can’t blame yourself.” Percy put his hand on the man’s shoulder, and asked Dáin, “What can we do now?”

 “Wait here, an’ pray, like the rest o’ us.  We’ve routed the City, and everyone involved are down in the Cells.  I got Dwalin there, an’ if there’s more te know, we’ll found it out.  We’ve doubled the Guard all o’er the City, an’ watchin’ the South Gate for any news.”  Dáin put his hand over Adila’s.  “I’m sorry fer Bron, lass.  ‘Espent tha’ whole first winter wi’ us, a’the Mountain, learnin’ his trade ye ken.  We all liked ‘im.”

 “How long do the others have to stay in the Mountain?” Hilda asked.

“We sent the signal a bit ago.  They should be in here any minute.”

 

A short time later, the party from Erebor arrived with their escort, and Bain was instantly enveloped in Hilda’s arms, and Percy was holding Tauriel.  Dilna came in with Bofur and rushed over to Hilda.

Darryn started to cry, and held out his arms, and Ben dove forward to hold his grandson.  “I’m here, baby.  Grandad’s here.”  He closed his eyes and tried to get himself under control, as a Guard helped him sit and Cook brought him something to drink.

“Where’s Bowen?  Is he all right?”  Hilda asked. 

“We dropped him off first.” Bain told them.  “Anna and Daffyd were frantic.”

“I’ll bet they were.” Percy saw the blood on Bain’s shirt.  “What happened?”

“An arrow nicked my ear.  I’m fine, but…they killed my horse, Uncle Percy.”  Bain swallowed.

“I’m sorry, my boy.” Percy gathered the boy to him.  “Thank Ulmo, you and Tauriel are all right.”    

Hilda checked the bandage on Tauriel’s arm and the stitches on her cheek.  “Do you hurt, lovey?”

“A bit.  I will go see the Healers when this is over.  I just need to be here.”  She gave Hilda a sad look.  “Is it true, what they said about Esta?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“What about Esta?” Bain cried, with huge eyes.  “What?  Where’s Thangon?”  The boy looked around, frantically.  “Oh, gods…”

“The big beastie is workin’ wi’ Dwalin an’ the others a’ the Cells, lad.” Dáin’s voice was gentle. “‘e’s doin’ fine, but I’m afraid the wee dog is dead.”

This was all too much for poor boy, and he put his face in his hands and wept, as Percy held him.

 

***************

 

**Lothlórien, 29 th of May 2943 T.A. (Just past midnight)**

After tossing and turning for hours, Galadriel sat up in bed, wide-eyed, with a gasp.

“Galadriel?” Celeborn rolled over and asked her, with sleep in his voice. “What is it, _Meleth nîn?”_

“Something is happening,” she whispered.  “We must go at once!”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Not yet, but we must make haste, _Hervenn nîn!”_

Her husband quickly helped her out of bed, and in minutes they were both dressed and headed for her private garden on the forest floor.

She took the pewter pitcher and filled in in the nearby fountain and took it over to the wide low bowl on the plinth in the middle of the garden.  She began to pour, and as she lifted the pitcher up and down three times, she chanted the words in Quenya that would summon the scenes that had been plaguing her dreams.

“Show me,” she prayed. 

They both looked down at the water, as it stilled and carefully watched the shapes and images take form.  A forest in the dark.  A campfire, with Men sitting around it, next to a large, covered wagon. 

“What does it mean?” Celeborn asked his wife.  “I see nothing out of order with this, _Meleth nîn_.  Such scenes are common all over Middle Earth.”

“This is true, but notice the look on that man’s face,” she pointed to tall one with greying hair.  “There is hate and malice in his heart, to be sure, but there is something more…”

Celeborn watched the scene carefully. “The others are afraid of this man.”

“They are,” Galadriel agreed.  “But he is no mere man.”

“Many men have such darkness in them…”

“That is also true, _Meleth nîn_ , but this one has a control over them that is not natural.  He can to force others to do his bidding, though he himself does not know where his power comes from.”

“Where does it come from?” Celeborn wondered.  “Can you see?”

Galadriel gasped, as she realized the truth.   “The man is a _thrall_ **1 ** of Sauron, and  cannot  be killed easily.”

 _“Ai, gorgor…”_ Celeborn breathed.  “There is more, I think…  Can you look inside the wagon?”

Galadriel murmured softly, and gently touched the surface of the water.  The ripples washed away the scene at the fire, then revealed to the Lord and Lady the reason why they were summoned.

“We need to send for Daeron.” Galadriel murmured.  “Tell them to hurry.”

 

***************

 

Lieutenant Daeron had been sent back to the Golden Wood last week to get some rest, after working endlessly to treat the injured on the campaign with the Riders of Rohan. 

It was Penlod who insisted he went.  “You are dead on your feet, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  Now go, and no arguments; you are no good to us here, until you get strong again.”

“But I really am fine…” Daeron protested weakly.

 “No, you are not! I am still your superior and I am ordering you home for at least a week, pending an examination by the Master of the Healing House.”

In the end, he was grateful to go, though he hated to admit it.  Once back in the Golden Wood, he fell into bed and slept through the entire day and night.  After a few days, he felt much better, and enjoyed the quiet time spent in reading books and writing letters, and enjoyed having the house to himself.

On the sixth night after his arrival, he was rudely awakened by a pounding on the door. “Lieutenant Daeron! You must wake up, quickly!”

Daeron shot out of bed and grabbed his robe, and opened the door to find his friend Airen with her arm up, ready to continue pounding.

“What is it?” he sat up and looked at her.  “What are you doing here?”

“The Lady sent me to fetch you.  You are needed in her Private Garden immediately!”

“I do not understand; what is so urgent?”

“I do not know, _Mellon_.  She simply said you must come, now!”

The Guardian’s stomach began to stir.  Was this the summons he’d been waiting for all year?

“Can you take me there?  I do not know the way.”

 “Daeron has arrived, My Lady.”  Airen announced, then bowed and exited the garden.

“Come, quickly!” Galadriel motioned for him to joined her and Celeborn around the Mirror.

“What is it?” The Lieutenant asked, then gasped, when he looked down. _“Ai…”_

“Look, but do not touch the water,” Celeborn warned, “no matter what you see.  Then do exactly what my wife tells you to do.”

Daeron eyes were as wide as saucers, and he was mesmerized at the sights from the Mirror. 

There was a clearing in the woods, and saw figures crawling toward a structure much like the ones they had stopped on the roads in the Wold, full of kidnapped children….

But his was not in the Wold, and one of the Elves in this scene was his cousin.

A voice entered his thoughts, unbidden. 

_We are watching a wooded area near Dale._

_Dale?_ Daeron stepped back, shocked, but a gentle hand on his arm urged him back.

There was Turamarth, and King Thranduil helping some women and children through a small trap door…

 ** _“Rhian!”_** Daeron cried, and he instinctively reach out for her, but Galadriel caught his wrist.

“You must not touch the water!”

Daeron drew his hand back.  “My apologies, My Lady, but—“

“I know what she is to you, _hênig._ Rest assured she is safe and so is the child.  She is not why I sent for you.”

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and relaxed enough for Galadriel to let go.

The three of them stared into the mirror, as the scene continued to unfolded.  Lord Thranduil and the Elves continued to help them, and when Rhian was rescued Daeron let out a sigh of relief.  They all prayed when Lady Sigrid became stuck, then she was in Mablung’s arms...

Suddenly, the wagon burst into flames and there was screaming.  The Elves ran to the fire, but could not approach.

Thranduil was on fire.

“Now, _Meleth nîn_!”  Galadriel told Celeborn, urgently.  “Go now!”

 

***************

**Forest in the South of Dale**

In the wagon, Sigrid and the others were still praying and trying to keep up a calm front for the children, when she sat up.

“Do you hear that?” She whispered.

There was a scratching noise coming from the bench seat at the front.  She crawled over and lifted the lid in time to see the trap door open slowly…

When she saw _Ada,_ and she nearly wept from relief.

The Elvenking put his finger to his lips, then whispered.  “You must be silent, _Iellig_ , and tell the others they must make no noise.  Send out the children first, one by one, _quietly_.”

Tilda was still subdued and Adila’s little boy had started to cry, so Hannah brought him over to go first.  As soon as Thranduil touched him, he said a few words in Quenya to quiet him, and he was quickly through the hatch and handed over to another Elf and carried to the trees.

Then Tilda.  No one could afford to stop and think why she was so silent; they just needed to get her out.   He couldn’t resist holding her for just a second, and kissed her hair.  “I love you, _Tithen Pen_.  Now, go with Turamarth, and I will help the others.”

Tur held out his arms, and and he quickly took her to Ermon, then came back to help.

Adila’s little girl nodded to Sigrid, and swiftly escaped into Thranduil’s arms, and then it was Rhian’s turn.

As Thranduil helped her out of the hatch, he whispered in her ear.  “Darryn, your father, and Evan are safe, _hênig_.  You need not worry.”

Rhian nodded, and stifled a sob of relief, as she nodded and went to Turamarth, who was waiting to take her.

Sigrid had a silent argument with Hannah as to who would go next, but it was right: Hannah was older, and needed help from both ends to get through the box seat and through the trap door. 

Finally, Thranduil reached for Sigrid, and almost had her out, when her skirt caught on something. 

“I’m stuck, _Ada_ ,” she whispered.  “Oh, gods, I’m stuck!”

Thranduil worked his hands around her legs to her waist, where the fabric was caught, and pulled with all his might.  The skirt tore easily, but his force of his hands smacked the side of the opening, jostling the wagon a bit.

“Hurry!  They mean to burn us!” Sigrid whispered again. 

“I know, _Iellig_.  Shh…”  He almost had her free, when her skin caught on something and cut into the flesh, and the squeal of pain erupted from her before she could stop it. 

Then there was shouting and the shuffling of angry feet.

Before she knew it, she was in Captain Mablung’s strong arms, and he was helping her away.  She turned her head around, when the roar of the fire began, and caught a glimpse of her _Ada_ , as the oil on this clothes burst into flames.

“ _ADA!  NO!”_ She lunged back to help him, but Mablung tightened his grip and dragged to safety.  The rest of the rescue party ran towards the wagon to try and save their King, but the heat and the flames forced them back.

“NO!  Oh, please no! “Sigrid sobbed as she fought to get free.  “You can’t let him die!  Where’s Da?  DA!  DA!” she was screaming at the top of her lungs, but the roar of the fire drowned her voice.

Mablung dragged her backwards, then around to the side toward Rhian and Hannah, and she could see the Leader of the gang standing by the campfire laughing…

…as a tall figure burst from the branches high in the trees, his black hair flying...

…and landed perfectly at the man’s feet.

And she shook her head in disbelief, though her heart knew the truth of it.

 

***************

How did all those arrows miss that son of a bitch?

_Oh no, oh no, oh gods…. Thranduil is dead…_

Jarod stood there with an arrogant grin in his face as he tossed the torch in the air and the wagon burst into flames.  He didn’t seem all that surprised when the King of Dale suddenly landed in front of him.

“I was hoping you’d see all that,” he sneered at Bard, and drew his sword.

“You’re a dead man.” Bard said, through gritted teeth, as he pulled out his knife and they began to dance around each other.

Jarod lunged forward and the sword whipped through the air, but Bard jumped, and with a half-twist and landed behind him, a knife at this throat.

_He’s dead…  He’s dead…  He’s dead…_

The words pounded through his brain faster and faster, until Bard screamed in fury, threw the knife away.   He needed to tear this man apart with his bare hands.

Jarod’s eyes were wide with surprise, but he raised his sword just the same, and made to strike him down.  With lightning speed, Bard dodged the blow, then kicked the sword out of Jarod’s hand, and punched him in stomach.  The man’s eyes bugged out as he bent over double, then Bard grabbed his head and kneed him in the face several times, then threw him on the ground and punched him, over and over.

_He’s dead…  He’s dead…  He’s dead…_

His blood pounded in his ears, and all he saw was a red mist of fury.  Bard was roaring and swearing and making noise, he knew that much, but he had no idea what he was saying, or even thinking anymore.  He just wanted to hit him and hit him, and hit him again, until the pain of his loss left him.

Which would never leave, because his husband, and probably his daughter, had just burned to death…

He screamed in anguish, then punched him again.  And again.  And again.

 

***************

 

Thranduil could see Sigrid scream as the Captain dragged her away, but she couldn’t help.  No one could, because the Dragon  had come back from the dead, to seek his revenge. 

The flames took him, and this time, he knew he would not survive the blaze, nor did he want to.  It was not in him to try to overcome the agony of burns like that again, not even for his family.  The Elvenking could only pray that death would find him quickly, and he closed his eyes and stood still, and waited for the searing pain he knew would come, which would be followed by oblivion, then if the Valar were kind, Mandos would reach his hand out for him and take him to the Halls of Waiting.  He was sorry for Bard’s grief, but they would be together again, one day.

The flames took hold of his clothing, then licked upwards toward his shoulders, about to burn his face...

…then stopped.

He opened his eyes.  _Everything_ was frozen in time.  The yellow and blue flames were still there, but they did not move, and beyond that, he could see the Elves and others standing like statues…

“Thranduil?”  The voice was behind him.

He turned around in confusion, then saw his silver-haired cousin standing before him. 

“Celeborn?  Is that you?”

“Come.” The Lord of the Golden Wood reached out.  “Take my hand, and we will get you out.”

“I cannot go with you.  The Dragon—"

Celeborn’s voice was gentle.  “There is no Dragon, and the War was long ago, _Mellon_.  We must get you out, Thranduil, because your family is waiting for you.”

“My family…”

“Yes.  Will you not trust me, my Cousin?”

 “Even if this is as you say, _I am burned!_   I cannot endure that kind of pain again, Celeborn!” His eyes filled with tears.  “It will be worse this time, because _I know_ what iscoming _,_ and do not have that kind of strength in me!    I must allow myself to die, can you not see that?”

“No, Thranduil.  You will not suffer that agony again, I promise you.”

“How do you know?  How do _I_ _know_ this is not just a dream?”  Thranduil was still frozen from fear and bad memories.  “Please….  I was in constant agony, day in and day out, for almost two years, and…” He pleaded. “If you are real, then be kind and end my life quickly, please!”

Celeborn stepped over to him, took his hand and squeezed it. “Do I not feel real to you, _Mellon_?”  He took Thranduil’s hand and held it to his cheek.  “Do you feel this?  You must trust me, and let me help you, or the danger will not end for your family. There is more to this than you realize!”

“But… how can this be?  How can you do this?”

Celeborn raised an eyebrow.  “The are many advantages to having such a powerful wife, you know.  Galadriel and I care about you, and your family, very much.  Let us help you, _Ētta_.”

Thranduil looked down at the flames frozen on his clothing.  “But…”

“I will take care of that.”  Celeborn stepped back and took off his cloak, then used it to brushed the flames off his body.  Thranduil watched in fascination as they shattered and fell away like broken glass. 

“There.” His cousin stepped back with a look of satisfaction.  “I am afraid your clothes have been damaged beyond repair.  You  will have to cut some of your hair off, but you are otherwise unharmed.”  Celeborn shook out the cloak and placed it on Thranduil’s shoulders and fastened it at the neck, as if he were dressing a child, then grabbed his arms.

“Before we go, you must listen carefully to these instructions:  Your Bard is in grave danger, and it is _you_ who must save him.”

“What is it?”

“Their leader, the one who started all this, is not an ordinary Man, but a _Thrall_ possessed by the Evil One.  This _Thrall_ targeted your husband specifically, so Bard _must_ be the one to not only kill him, but he must also _destroy_ him.”

 “What if he does not?”

 “He will kill him, but then you must save Bard, because the danger will not end with his death!  Once the _Thrall_ is dead, you _cannot_ let Bard drown in his own anger and hate, Thranduil.   If you fail, the Evil that possessed the _Thrall_ will enter your husband and he will become one himself.  You must help him banish it, Thranduil, and quickly!”

“How do we do this?”

“You must help him overcome his fury, then Bard must throw the body into the fire.  You all must pray as it burns.  Tell your Elves to sing the Hymn of Varda; that is the most powerful prayer we know.  This will release the darkness, and Bard will be free of it, and so will the others.  You _cannot fail,_ Thranduil, because if you do, your husband will have to be destroyed the same way, do you understand?”

“I will not fail.”

Celeborn kissed both his cheeks, then pulled the hood of the cloak over Thranduil’s head.   “Go, cousin!  Go NOW!”

And he threw the Elvenking out of the fire.

Thranduil flew through the air, then rolled several times in the grass, until he found himself surrounded by Elves with astonished faces.

“Are you all right, My Lord?”

“I…” he looked down at his clothing, which clearly had suffered, but the skin underneath was smooth and healthy.  He reached up and felt his hair, and found that only the end of his long braid had been singed, but that was it.  “I am… fine.” His voice was full of wonder.

“Where did you get the cloak?”

Thranduil looked down, and saw that he was indeed wearing the garment given to him by Celeborn. 

It was real, then!   But there was no time to think, because another shout was heard.

“Da!  DA!”  It was Sigrid screaming frantically.

Thranduil quickly looked over to see Bard beating the one called “Jarod” to a pulp.

 

***************

 

_He’s dead…  He’s dead…  He’s dead…_

Bard screamed in rage, and continued to smash that bastards face in, because his death wasn’t enough.  It would never be enough.  He needed to pulverize him, to break every bone in his body, to rip out his heart, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough…

...because his Elf was dead.

Thranduil had tried to reconcile with him before this, and he had pushed him away.  Now he was dead, and Bard despised himself more and more with each passing moment. 

The hate welled up in him until he couldn’t see, and he kept on screaming and hitting the body of the one who caused it all.  It didn’t matter that Jarod was dead.  Nothing mattered anymore except the rage that ran through Bard’s veins.  He needed to hate.  He _had to hate!_

_He’s dead…  He’s dead…  He’s dead…_

Suddenly hands were on his upper arms, and a voice could be heard somewhere in the recesses of his mind.  The hands tried to pull him away…

“NO!” he furiously jerked away, and continued his assault.  “NO!  He killed—"

“Bard!  You must stop!  Please!  Captain help me!”

The grip on him was too strong and he couldn’t move anymore.  Arms were lifting him and turning him around, and he looked at Mablung…

…and Thranduil.

No.  No.  That can’t be right.  He shook his head and dove toward the body on the ground, but strong arms pulled him upright again.

“Hold him, Mablung!” He heard, and arms gripped him tighter, and made him face the Elvenking.  “Bard, look at me!  Look at me!” 

Thranduil held his face, and Bard looked into his blue-grey eyes, and saw the reflection of the fire in them.

“Bard, it is me.  I am here, _Meleth nîn_.” he said.  “I am here, and I love you.”

“No!  It’s not true!”  The anger welled up again, and he strained against the Captain’s arms and roared in frustration.

“You must stop, Bard!  Let it go!”

“NO!  I can’t!  He—”

Suddenly Thranduil grabbed his face, and captured his mouth on a powerful kiss.  Bard tried to turn away – he couldn’t stop the instinct to fight it, but the Elf had put hand on the back of his head to keep him still, and another arm snaked around his waist to pull him closer.

Slowly, slowly, the frenzy of fury and madness began to settle down.  He could feel love and life began to flow through him, and the turmoil eventually settled inside Bard. 

Thranduil could feel it too, as did Mablung, who released him.  The Elf broke the kiss and looked into his eyes again.  There were tears on his face, as he searched Bard’s eyes with his own.

“Bard?” he whispered. “ _Meleth nîn_?”

“You’re real,” he whispered.  Then he burst into tears, and his knees buckled.  Thranduil held him tight, and lowered them both to the ground.

“Yes, _Meleth nîn_.  I am real.”

“You’re really alive…”

“I am.  It took a miracle, but I am here, and everyone is safe.”

Bard lifted his head.  “Where are the girls?”

“Sigrid and Tilda are right over there, look for yourself.”  Thranduil smiled and pointed to an area in the trees near the front of the wagon.  “Do you see?”

Bard turned and saw them, and his heart lifted with utter relief.  Ermon had Tilda in his arms, and was giving her some medicine from a small bottle, and talking to her.  Sigrid met his eyes and made to go to him, but Turamarth whispered something in her ear and held her back.

“Why won’t he let her come?”

“There are some things we need to do, first, Bard.”

“I don’t understand…”

Thranduil pointed to the body of the monster that caused all this.  Jarod’s face had been completely destroyed, and the body was unrecognizable.

“He’s dead.” Bard said dazedly.

“Yes, and we must act quickly.” Thranduil grabbed his face again and looked into his eyes, to make sure Bard was himself.

“What do you mean?”

“I will explain later, but you must throw the man’s body into the fire, and hurry, or you and the children will all be in more danger than you can imagine.  Hurry!”

They went back to where the body lay, and Bard picked it up and carried it towards the burning wagon and with a loud grunt, threw it into the flames.   The Elves had already disposed of the rest of the bandits in the same manner, but when Jarod’s remains landed on the burning heap, something happened...

Bard looked around to see the Elves helping the others back into the clearing, and they stood, with palms toward the sky in prayer, as they sang:

_"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,_

_silivren penna míriel_

_o menel aglar elenath!_

_Na-chaered palan-díriel_

_o galadhremmin ennorath,_

_Fanuilos, le linnathon_

_nef aear, si nef aearon!”_   

Bard looked over at Thranduil, whose eyes were closed, and his beautiful velvet baritone joined in the song. 

A loud, buzzing sound filled his ears, and it seemed to be coming from the burning body.  Bard’s eyes widened in amazement, as he saw a thick, black cloud emerge from the fire.  It hovered for several moments, like millions of tiny insects gathered tightly into an undulating, opaque mass that blocked the view of the stars and the moon.  The particles nearest the flames began to burn, like fireflies, then fell back into the fire, them more of glowed and fell, until the black mass had been completely destroyed.

A terrible scream filled the air, which sent chills down Bard’s spine, before it faded into nothing. 

“It is gone.”  Thranduil said, with great relief.  “You did it, _Meleth nîn_ , praise the Stars and all the Valar.”

 _ **“** Whatisgone?  _What the fuck _was_ that thing?”

“I will explain while we clean your hands, so you can see the children.”  Thranduil motioned to the Captain.  _“Boe annin nên!”_

Mablung handed him a canteen, and some cloth, and Thranduil poured water over Bard’s knuckles, and began to wipe off the blood and matter.

“We do not want the children to see this, do we?”  The Elf told him.  “Do you remember when Iola threw herself off the walkway, and that terrible scene in my Garden?”

“How could I forget?”

Thranduil smiled, as he scrubbed.  “Perhaps that is as well, _Meleth nîn_.  Galion theorized that a lingering black spirit had been involved, and though we only surmised at it then, I am positive of it now.  Jarod – the one they called ‘Boss,’ was no ordinary Man, Bard.  He was what we call a _Thrall,_ possessed with something much more powerful than anything we encountered that day.   He had the ability to force others to his will.”

“All the arrows missed him…” Bard recollected.  “I couldn’t believe it, but they did.”

“I am not surprised.  The Presence within Jarod had planned to possess _you_ next, Bard, so you _had_ to be the one to not only kill this Jarod, but throw him into the flames.  That, and our prayers destroyed the Darkness.”

Bard sighed and looked down, as Thranduil finished cleaning his hands.  “I’ve never killed a Man before.”

“I understand, _Meleth nîn_ , but I am not sorry.”  Thranduil held them up and once he was satisfied his hands were clean, he kissed Bard’s knuckles.  “You were defending our family, and there is no better reason.”

“I thought he killed you, too.”  Bard’s eyes blurred again, and said, in a tight voice.  “You tried to make things right between us, and if you had died...  I don’t think I could go on, knowing my last words to you were in anger.  I couldn’t live with that.”

“Shhh…”  Thranduil stroked his hair back, and kissed his brow, his eyes, his mouth, then pressed their foreheads together with a smile.  “You love me very much.” His Elf whispered.

Bard let out a little laugh.  “And you love me very much.” 

“Always, _Meleth nîn_.”

“Come on, love.” Bard wiped his eyes.  “I need to see the children now.”

 

***************

**Lothlórien, early hours of the morning, 30 th of May 2943 T.A.**

Everyone around Galadriel’s Mirror sighed with relief when they saw the Darkness dissipate

“Thank you for allowing me to see this, My Lady.” 

Galadriel put her hand on his arm.  “We are not finished, Guardian.  There is more that must be done.”

“I do not understand.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled own a small wooden box, and lifted the lid.

Daeron’s eyes widened with shock as he saw the object in her hand...

 

***************

**Forest in the South of Dale**

Thranduil gave several orders in Sindarin, then led Bard to the others.

“DA!”  Sigrid tore out from the trees, and into his arms, and began to cry.  “I was so scared.”

“Oh, my girl,” Bard buried his face in her neck, and let out a sob of relief, then reached out and pulled Thranduil into the embrace.  “It’s over, love.  It’s over and done, and you’re safe now.”

Thranduil’s long arms embraced his husband and daughter tightly and he closed his eyes and enjoyed their warmth.

Sigrid lifted her head, and looked at him. “You were in the fire, _Ada_!  I saw you, I know I did, and your clothes….  How did you do that?”

“I will explain it all later.”  The Elvenking took off his cloak and wrapped their daughter in it.  “Are you all right?  Did they hurt you or anyone else?”

“No.  Just took us, and put us in the wagon.”

Bard searched her face. “Are you sure?  They didn’t try to… interfere with any of you?”

“No, Da.”

Bard let out a breath, and hugged her again.

Thranduil kissed Sigrid’s hair.  “I am so proud of you, _Iellig_.  I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Sigrid smiled, then turned to her Da.  “How did you jump like that?  You should have been killed, but you…”

“Again, _Iellig_ , we will explain it all later, but for now, we must see to the others.   Where is your sister?”

“She’s over there with Ermon.  Come on.”

The rescue party had brought plenty of blankets and water to treat shock, and Ruvyn and Rúmil were speaking softly to Adila’s children, and encouraging them to drink some water _._ Thranduil had instructed the Elves not to say anything about their father, or what their mother had been forced to endure.  The bad news could wait, until their mother found a way to tell them herself.

Rhian and Hannah came over to them. “Thank you so much, My Lord,” Rhian’s voice shook.  “Are you sure Darryn’s all right?  They told me my Da was still in the Mountain.”

“He is,” Bard told her.  “Evan had some injuries, and he fought like a Warg to protect Darryn, but they’re in safe hands, now.  King Dáin is keeping him and the others safe in Dale, until this is finished.”

“Thank the stars,” Hannah said, and put her arm around Rhian as she continued to speak with Bard. 

Thranduil turned toward Tilda, and saw the look on Ermon’s face, and terror filled his heart. 

“Bard…” he grabbed the Bowman’s arm.

“What is it?” Bard finished talking to Hannah, then saw.  _“Oh gods…  no….”_

They all ran to the Chief Healer, who was sitting cross-legged on the ground with Tilda in his lap, looking very worried.

Everyone knelt into a circle around the little girl, and Thranduil held out his arms to take her.

“There is no more I can do, My King.  I have given her something to stimulate her heart, but it will not help in the long run.” Ermon explained quietly, and placed the Elvenking’s hand over Tilda’s heart. _“Alae, Thranduil,”_ he whispered quietly. “ _Ni dem angin, Aran nîn.”_

Thranduil swallowed, then his breath caught when he saw the truth of Ermon’s words.  

“Is she unconscious?”  Sigrid asked.

“Yes, My Lady.” Ermon looked at Thranduil and Bard, with tears in his eyes. “It is a blessing that she is, because she would be wracked with pain otherwise.  I…am afraid you must prepare yourselves.  Little Tilda’s heart is dying.  I have kept it going, until you all could say your goodbyes, My Lord.  The only reason she is alive now is because Lord Thranduil is keeping her so.”  He looked down at the hand on her chest.  “I am so terribly sorry, but her heart can no longer function without help.”

“Oh, no… no...!”  Sigrid begin to cry.  “Save her,  _Ada!_ You have to save her!”

Thranduil’s eyes filled, then spilled over.  “ _Gi_ _melin_ , _Tithen Pen_ … _nínion ne mened dhîn_ _.”_ She was so pale, but still so beautiful and innocent.  So much joy she brought into his life, with her big blue eyes, and a sweet smile that melted his heart.  From the very start she had captured him, and he was her willing prisoner.

The Bowman bent down and kissed her little brow and ran his fingers through her hair.  “Little Bean…  My beautiful little girl…”  Tears fell from Bard’s eyes onto Tilda’s face and he wiped them off her cheeks.  “What are we going to do without her?”

Sigrid lowered her head into Tilda’s lap, and sobbed.  “She can’t!  She just can’t die, not after all this!  It can’t be true!” 

Bard rubbed Sigrid’s back and kissed her hair.  “It was a miracle she lived this long, love.  Ermon told us a while back that her heart wasn’t going to get better.  They’ve done all they can do, love, but it was inevitable.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?”  She raised her head and looked angrily at Thranduil and Ermon.  “You should have told us!”

“Maybe you’re right, love.” Bard’s voice caught.  “But we just wanted you all to feel happy with the time she had left, so we could have good memories to carry with us.”

“But I can’t say goodbye, now, Da! How will she know how much we love her, if she can’t hear us?”

“ _Sigrid, Iellig,_ ” Thranduil said softly. “She knows how much you love her.  You held her and comforted her, did you not?  I know you did this, brave Sigrid, because you have _always_ looked after her and tried to be strong for her.   Trust me and your Da, when we say our Tilda knows she was loved and cherished.”

Sigrid said nothing, just shook her head, buried her face in Tilda’s lap again cried even harder.  Thranduil leaned down and kissed her hair.

He looked over at Bard and shook his head.  “I am so sorry, _Meleth nîn_.  I am so sorry.  If I could, I would give my own life, you know that.”

 “I know, love.” Bard looked at him tearfully.  “I would do the same.  We can’t let her be in pain; she is sleeping peacefully right now.”  His voice wavered, and his lips wobbled.  “It’s time.”

Thranduil looked down at their child.  It was his power that kept her heart beating, and it would have to be his loving hand that would help her slip away to join her mother.  Could he bear that burden?

Bard nodded, then leaned down and caressed Tilda’s face and kissed her cheeks and her forehead.  He picked up her small hand, kissed that too, and held it against his cheek.  “I love you, Beanie.  I love you so much.  It’s time to go see your Mam, now.”

 _Please…_   Thranduil prayed.  _Please give me the strength to do this…  Please…_

He thought he could do it – he _knew_ he had to but… his hand wouldn’t move.

“I… do not think I can let her go,” he shook his head and began to cry. “Forgive me, Bard, but…I cannot do it...  I am not ready.”

“I understand, love.”  Bard crawled closer to him, and looked into Thranduil’s eyes, and held his gaze for a moment. A tear ran down his cheek as he pressed their foreheads together, then he placed his hand over the Elf’s and interlocked their fingers.  “I know.”

He squeezed it for a minute, then slowly pulled it from Tilda’s chest.

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Boe annin nên!_ – I need water!

 _Theninwen –_ strong girl

 _Alae, Thranduil –_ Look, Thranduil (lit _._ “Behold”)

 _Ni dem angin, Aran nîn –_ I am sad for you, My King

 _Gi_ _mellon_ , _Tithen Pen_ … _nínion ne mened dhîn. -_   I love you, Little One… I cry upon your leaving.

**NOTES:**

 

[1] Thrall:  the state of being in someone's power or having great power over someone; a slave, servant, or captive.  Melkor first developed Orcs from Elves who had been captured and turned into thralls.

<http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Thrall-Noldoli>

 

[2] <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/24520668>

 


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hostages have been rescued, Thranduil survived the fire, and the Thrall, and all its evil has been destroyed.  But it’s all been too much for Tilda’s delicate heart.
> 
> What was in that box Galadriel opened?

 

 

“There was nowhere I could go that wouldn't be you.”

** ― Jeffrey Eugenides, Middlesex **

**Lothlórien, 30 th of May 2943 T.A., Early Hours of the Morning**

Daeron shielded his eyes from the bright light of the glass vial in Galadriel’s hands.  “What is that, My Lady?”

“This is the Light of Eärendil, Guardian.”

“I do not understand…”

Galadriel smiled, and simply said, “Hold out both your hands, Lieutenant.  Palms up.”

He did so, and she placed the glass vial on its side into his upturned hands and covered it with her own, and Celeborn put his hands atop of hers.

“You are a gifted Healer, _Mellon_ , and you are familiar with Princess Tilda’s body.  I want you to show me her heart, then tell me what needs to be done to repair the damage.  Do not speak words out loud, just… you will know how to tell me.

“Yes, My Lady.” Daeron swallowed, nervous.  “I do not know if I can— “

“No, _you_ cannot, but we will use the Light to do what could not normally be done.  You must have faith, Guardian.”

Daeron looked down into the Mirror of Galadriel, and saw the group in the woods again, and drew close to Bard, Thranduil, and their family.  Tilda was lying in the Elvenking’s lap, and the others were weeping.

Were they too late?  His stomach flipped, and anxiety filled his heart...

 _Do not allow distractions, Daeron…_   Galadriel’s voice said in his mind.  _You must concentrate…_

He looked deeper, and saw Lord Thranduil’s hand on her chest, and he knew he was keeping her alive.

He looked beneath the King’s hand, under the fabric of her dress, then her skin, muscle, ribs and finally the organ that was failing fast...

Daeron’s eyes widened as he examined Tilda’s heart, and was appalled at how much it had degenerated since since he’d last seen her!  How could she still be alive?

 _Concentrate, Guardian…_ Galadriel warned.  _We have not much time..._

He carefully probed each portion of the organ, and pointed out where the muscle had been weakened, and the Light began to regenerate the tissue under his tutelage.  Then…  The valves that were supposed to pump the blood through her heart were much too loose and thin, so together, they tightened and thickened them until they functioned perfectly.

It looked good.  Very good.

_Well done, Lieutenant…_

_Wait, My Lady…_

They moved next to Tilda’s lungs, and Daeron showed The Lady all the scar tissue left from the infection.  He was disheartened at the damage, but did as Galadriel bid him, and concentrated his efforts.  This was extremely delicate, because the scar tissue had to dissolve _completely,_ lest it cause a blockage, but the power of the Light made it possible.

Daeron and the Lady checked the sheath around her brain that had become infected. They spent a great deal of time on this area, before proceeding to her spine and her organs, until he felt satisfied all was as it should be.

_I believe she is healed…  Thank you._

Daeron opened his eyes, and smiled at the Lord and Lady.

And Celeborn began to laugh…

 

***************

 

She opened her eyes, to find she was sitting in the middle of a forest, but it was different.  These trees were so big around they could fit a whole house inside!

“My Lady?” 

She turned around to see a very tall man – an Elf – with hair even lighter than _Ada’s_.   His was a silvery-white, and he was dressed in a white tunic grey leggings and tall, gray boots.  He seemed nice, and walked toward her and smiled down at her.

“You are Tilda, Princess of Dale, are you not?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded, then said “Oh!”  The Elf looked like he was really important, so she got up, then picked up the sides of her skirt and curtsied politely.  “I mean, yes I am.   _Mae de 'ovannen, Hîr Nîn._

The Elf smiled, put his hand over his heart and bowed.  “ _Mae de 'ovannen,_ G _wennig._ You have very good manners, and your Sindarin is excellent.”

“Thank you.  _Ada_ says to always have good manners, because Princesses have to set a good example.” She smiled.  “He pesters at my Da because his Sindarin is terrible.  Da says a lot of bad words, too, but don’t tell him I told you that.”

“Your _Ada_ taught you well.  I am Thranduil’s cousin, Lord Celeborn.”

Tilda’s eyes grew wide with excitement.  “Really?  When did you come?  Did you bring Lady Gallerdil?”

 _“Galadriel,”_ he corrected her. 

She sighed in frustration.  “I _never_ get that right.”

“Your mistake is understandable.  Elven names can be difficult to pronounce.”

“Uncle Percy says that, too.  But she sends me nice letters.  My _Ada_ made me a box to keep them in, so I can read them when I’m older, he says.  Is she here?”  Tilda looked around.  “But… where are we?  This isn’t like home.”

“Ah, well.  That would take some explaining, would it not?”  He smiled again and held out his hand.  “Would you walk with me Little Princess?”

“Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular, to be honest.  Your parents have to take care of a few things, so I will keep you company while they are busy, if that is all right with you.”

“Can we see the Lady, too?”

“Not this time, I am afraid.  She is busy with your friend Daeron.”

“Daeron!” she jumped up and down from excitement.  “He’s here too?  I miss him!  When is he coming back to Dale?   Can he come soon?  Can I see him?”

Celeborn laughed.  “So many questions you ask!”

“Uncle Galion says I have a ‘curious nature.’” She said proudly, “I’m not sure what that means, though.” 

“It means that you like to learn about new things.  There is nothing wrong with that.”  They continued down a path among the big trees, toward a small pond, where the moonlight sparkled on the water.

“He and _Ada_ call me _Tithen Pen._   That means “Little One.”

“That seems appropriate.  You are quite small, although I admit I do not know many human children your age.”

“My Auntie Hil says I’m tiny, just like my Grand-ma.  She was really short, and I guess I look like her, too.  Sigrid - that’s my big sister – looks like Mam, and she’s taller.  My brother Bain looks like Da, but he says Bain is better-looking.”

“It sounds like you have a nice family.”

“Uh huh.  Then Da and _Ada_ got married and Tauriel’s my new sister, and we have Uncle Galion, and Uncle Percy.  And Daeron and Turamarth and Ruvyn and Ivran, and Meldon…. They guard us, but they’re my friends.  Feren – that’s _Ada’s_ best friend—“

“I have met Feren.  And Galion, as well.” 

“Well, Feren and his wife ‘Lindë – we call her that, cause I can’t say her name, either – adopted two girls, and one of them is named Alis, and she’s in my class at school....”

Celeborn was entertained by the child’s enthusiasm, as well as her litany of friends, family, favorite activities.  He listened with a smile, as the little girl chattered away, while they walked. 

 “My goodness, you know a great many people, do you not?  Let us sit for a minute.” The silver-haired Elf pointed to a bench beside a small pool of water. “The view is nice here, and I would like to speak with you.”

“Okay.”  The bench was high, so he helped her crawl up, then made herself comfortable, as Celeborn sat beside her, and put his arm over the back of the seat.

“Tilda, some terrible things happened last night, and perhaps we should talk about them.  Can you tell me what you remember?”

She looked down at the hands in her lap, and said in a thin voice, “I don’t want to think about it.”

“I know, but it might make you feel better in the long run,” he urged, “but first, I want to tell you that your _Ada_ and your Da are safe, and so is your sister and your brother.  They will be fine, do you understand?  You do not have to be afraid anymore, G _wennig.”_

She looked at him warily.  “Really?  Cause it was really scary.”

“Yes, I know.  I also know you have been ill, and that is why I am here with you.  I want to keep you company while my wife and Daeron help you get better.”

“Better?  Like it won’t hurt anymore?”

Celeborn blinked in alarm.  “Were you in pain, Tilda?”

She nodded reluctantly. “It would feel heavy here,” she put her hand on her chest, “and it would be like bubbles.  Sometimes it would squeeze and hurt.”

“Did you tell your parents this?”

She shook her head.  I wouldn’t let Esta tell, either.”

Celeborn lifted his eyebrows at her.  “That was unwise, My Lady.  Your parents need to know these things.  Your _Ada_ could have helped you feel better.”

“I know,” she swallowed, “but you won’t tell them?  Please?”

“Why would you not want them to know?”

“When I got sick, I made them cry and I felt really bad.  They worry _all the time,_ especially _Ada!"_ She sighed and rolled her eyes.  "And I _hate_ it when he makes that sad face!  Da does, too, but they don’t know I know it.”

“That is only because your family loves you.”

“But I want them to be _happy!”_   She frowned.  _“_ Sigrid told me  _Ada_ was sad for a really long time.”

“I do, Little One.  And when we learned of his marriage to your father, we were very much relieved.  Your _Ada_ has told us all about you, and I am glad for him.”

“See what I mean?  Da was sad, too, because Mam died, and now they’re happy, and we all have a good time, and everybody smiles, and laughs…”. She looked up at him with her big, blue eyes.  “I don’t want to ruin it!”

“I can understand that.  Hopefully, things will be better after this.” Celeborn tilted his head. “Now, we need to talk about recent events: I know you were frightened and upset, G _wennig_ , but I do not want you to feel as bad as you did after the Battle in Dale.”

“You mean, when the Dragon, and all the Orcs came?”

He nodded.  “Yes. You had a hard time with that, did you not?  Your family was worried for you, and we would not want you to suffer like that again.”

“I didn’t want to think about that, either, so I pretended it wasn’t real.”

“I know, but it is always better to face things, though sometimes that can be hard.”

“I cried a lot, and had bad dreams, but Da said that was better than pretending like it didn’t happen.”

“He is right.  It helps to talk about things, and it is good to cry when you are sad.  Tears help wash away our sadness, so we can learn to feel happiness again.” 

“But it was awful!”

“I know, and I am sorry about that.” Celeborn crossed one leg over the other, and sighed.  “Tilda, I am sorry to tell you this, but you lost a couple of friends last night.  Friends who were very brave, and who cared about you a great deal.”

“Who?”

“I am afraid one of your Guards, Meldon, has died.”

“He did?” Her lips wobbled.  “But he was so nice! He would take me to school, sometimes!”

“I am sure he was good to you, but it is as I said.  He tried to protect you and your sister from some very wicked people.”  He put his arm around her shoulder.  “I do not want you to feel like that was your fault, because it was not.  All the Guards know the risks, and Meldon died with great honor, doing something he believed in.  You will miss him, and feel sad, but do not feel guilty. He _wanted_ to protect you, Tilda.”

Tilda wiped her eyes. “I’ll try.”

“That is all I ask.”  Then Celeborn said, in a very gentle voice.  “There was another friend who died, Tilda, but I think you know that.”  Then he waited.

After a few minutes, Tilda softly asked, “Esta’s dead, isn’t she?” Her eyes overflowed as she began to cry.

“I am afraid so, child.” He said, softly.

He picked her up and held her in his lap, while she wept.  Then he took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes and made her blow her nose.

“She took care of m-me,” she hiccuped.

“I know.  Esta had great courage and she loved you very much.”

“But I don’t want her to die!”  Tilda’s lips wobbled.  “She’s my best friend.” She laid her head on his shoulder.  “I’ll miss her too much.”

Celeborn rubbed her back, and tried to soothe her.  “I know, G _wennig_.  But you must face it, and have the courage to say goodbye.  You will be sad for a time, but you can get through it.”

“How?”

“Perhaps you could think about some good memories.  Can you tell me what you love about her?”

“Well…” She began to speak about how _Ada_ gave her to them, and the many fond memories they shared.  She leaned her head against his chest as she talked.

  “…and she bit Thangon in the rear end when we found out he got our friend’s dog pregnant.”

“Do you think she was jealous?” Celeborn smiled.

“No.  She was mad because Thangon got Bain so embarrassed, and she didn’t like that.  Celeborn?” Her blue eyes implored his grey ones.  “Do you think Esta has a soul?”

“You mean, like a _fëa?”_

“Uh huh.”

“I am certain of it.”

“Where will she go?”

“Perhaps she will go to be with your mother.”  He sat her back down on the bench, and stroked her hair. “Would you like it if she did?”

“Uh huh.  Maybe she could keep her company.  Mam hasn’t seen any of us since I was born, and she must miss us a lot.”

He reached down a booped her on the nose.  “I think your mother would be happy with Esta.  Perhaps you can picture that, when you think about your friend.”

“What will happen to Meldon?”

“Well, Elves do not normally die, but when they do, there is a place called the Halls of Waiting.  Some of the Valar live there, and they help.”

“Which ones?”

“Námo and his wife Vairë, reside there.  Nienna comes to the Halls to counsel and offer comfort, when she can.”

“Who’s that?”

“Nienna is another Vala.  She is Námo’s sister, and together, they look after the Elves, who spend some time considering their lives.”

“What does that mean?” 

“Well, Eru, our Creator, wants them to think of things they did on Middle Earth, so when they are born again in Valinor, they will be very wise.”

“Oh.  _Ada_ says we should try to learn from our mistakes.”

“He is right, you know.”

 _“Ada_ knows _everything.”_

Celeborn smirked at that. “I’m sure he enjoys hearing you say that.”

“But if a Elf made lots of mistakes, will he stay longer?”

“Oh, yes.  There is one Elf I know of, who will never leave the Halls of Mandos, for his actions caused many, many deaths long ago.” 1

Tilda’s mouth dropped.  “That’s _really_ bad.”

“It was.  My wife was there, and witnessed some of it.  In fact, Fëanor was her Uncle.”

“Does she feel bad about it?  Cause she shouldn’t; I mean, cause that wasn’t her fault, what her Uncle did.  She’d never be bad like _that.”_

“I will tell her what you said, and I am sure it will make her feel better.”

“Where is Validor?”

 _“Valinor,”_ he corrected with a smile.  “Did your _Ada_ not tell you about it?  It is a wonderful place where Elves sail to, when their work on Middle Earth is done.  My wife was born there, did you know that?”

“Weren’t you?”

“I was not, alas.  I was born in Middle Earth, but I will sail there, one day, when my work is done.”

“Can I go, too?”

Before Celeborn could answer, Tilda shook her head.  “No, wait.  I should go where Mam and Esta are.  They might miss me and be sad.”

“I am positive they would.”

She looked up at him with an earnest face.  “Will Meldon be all right?  He was nice, and didn’t do bad things like that other Elf, so maybe he’ll only be the Halls just a little bit.”

“If he is as brave and kind as you say, then I agree with you.  His friends and family will be very sad for a time.  But you must all try to remember that he will be in a good place, and he is at peace.”

“Can I go see Daeron and Gallerdil, now?”

Celeborn shook his head.  “Not tonight, but someday soon.” He got up, then helped her get down from the bench.  “I think it is time to get back, do you not agree?”

“I suppose.”  She took his hand, and looked around as they walked back.

“Your trees are really big.”

“They are indeed.  The largest and most beautiful trees on Middle Earth.”

“The Lady said your houses are at the top.” She craned her neck and pointed upwards.  “Way up there?”

“Yes.”

“Can we go up, so I can see one?”

“I wish we could, but there is not enough time, just now.  Perhaps your parents can bring you for a visit; would you like that?”

“Uh huh!”

He stopped at the place where they first met, then Celeborn took her hand and kissed it.  “I have enjoyed speaking with you, Little Princess.  I hope we meet again soon.”  He gave her a bow and a formal salute, and she curtsied.  Then Celeborn helped her lie down in the grass.   “Close your eyes, little maid.”  He leaned down and kissed her brow, then whispered, “It is time to wake up, and see the faces of those who love you.”

He stood up straight and smiled down at her for a moment, then he turned and walk away—

“WAIT!”

Tilda was sitting up again.

He turned around looking a bit puzzled.  “Yes?  What is it?”

“You said I was going to get better, right?”

“I did, yes.”

“You mean really, _really_ better?  _All-the-way_ better?”

“Well, yes; I imagine that is what it means.”  His brows furrowed, and he took a step back toward her.  “Why do you ask?”

“Does that mean I can run and jump like all the rest of the kids now?  I won’t have to sit all the time?”

“I would think so.”

“And no more naps?”

“Well, I cannot speak to what your parents would say, but—”

She huffed, and scowled.  “But I’ll be better, _you said!_  None of the _other_ kids have to take naps!” Her lower lip began to pout.

“Ah.  Well, you tell your _Ada_ I said you were – how did you put it?  ‘ _All-the-way better’_ and you will probably be able to act like any normal child your age.”

“And go on the swings, and the climbing bars?”

“I do not know what those things are.”

“They’re at my school, in the playground.  Kids have fun on them.”

“Oh. Well, I do not see why you could not—”

“Oh, good.  And thanks, about the naps, I mean.” she rolled her eyes and let out a sigh of relief.  “I’m soooo sick of them!”

“I can see that.  Now lie back down and close your— “

“This will be great!” she said brightly. “Wait till Gwen and Alis see me!  They’ll be _sooooo surprised_ when I start playing jump-rope, and I’ll bet I can run faster than Liam, even!”

“Who are Gwen and Liam?”

“They’re in my class at school.  The girls are my best friends and really nice, but Liam,” she made a face, “he’s a nasty _boy.”_

“Ah.  You might not always think boys are nasty.  You could even learn to like them, someday.”

“Not Liam! _Blech!”_ Tilda stuck out her tongue.  “Liam thinks girls are dumb, and can’t do _anything_ but stay home and take care of the house, and he’s a big, fat, nasty-faced _jerk!”_

“I think I agree with you.” Celeborn’s eyebrow shot up.  “Perhaps I should make a point to introduce this Liam to my wife.”

“Could you?” She asked hopefully.  “He’d be so scared, he’d poop his pants, and it would serve him right!”

“Let us hope it does not come to that.  Now, Miss Tilda, it really is time for you to lie down again.”

“Oh.  Right.”

She lay prone again and closed her eyes…

...then opened them again and sat up. 

“Celeborn?”

“What is it _now?”_ He sighed and put his hands on his hips.  “Do you know you remind me of our daughter when she was small?  She never liked to lie down, either.”

“She didn’t?”

“No.  But that is a story for another time, and now I _really must_ send your back to your family, Tilda.  As much as I have enjoyed my time with you, your parents are sick with worry, and need to see you.”

“Oh, I know, but…”

He got down on one knee and looked down at her.  “Yes?”

“But what if I tell them what you said about me being really, _all-the-way_ better and they don’t believe me and still make me take naps and don’t let me run and play with the other kids?”

“I see your dilemma.  Wait here.”  Celeborn walked away for a moment.  “Here.” He presented her with one of the yellow flowers that grew along the paths.   “It is called _Elanor,_ and these flowers only grow in the Golden Wood.  I think if you show this to your _Ada,_ he will be inclined to believe you.”

“Thank you.  Gallerdil sent one like this, only it was pressed between books.  It’s really pretty,” she sniffed it.  “It smells nice, too.”

“I am glad you like it.”

“Can I do something else before I go?”

Celeborn let out a sigh.  “Make it quick.”

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.  “Thank you,” she said.  “And please give this to Gallerdil for me.”  She kissed him soundly on the cheek.  “And tell Daeron I miss him.” Another kiss.  “That’s for you.  It was really nice of you to help me.”

 “It was entirely our pleasure, my dear.  Now,” he raised both eyebrows, and smirked, “do you think you can stay down, this time?”

“Uh huh.”  And this time, she did. 

 

***************

 

**Forest to the South of Dale**

Bard stood up, looked toward the fire, and wiped his eyes, which were so swollen he could hardly see.  He was a mess, Thranduil was worse, and Sigrid was being held up by Hannah and Rhian, almost in hysterics.

This entire day seemed so surreal, and tragic. So many losses…  Even the miracle of Thranduil making it out of the fire didn’t matter right now, because they had lost Tilda.  He didn’t feel any sense of victory over the Evil that tried to destroy them, because it did destroy part of his heart that cherished their baby. 

With a sad sigh, he realized there was nothing more they could do here.  The Elves had the fire under control, and they had to start thinking of getting back.   Everyone in Dale and the Mountain will be frantic with worry, and Rhian needed to see her son.   

And he needed to see Bain, and break the terrible, _terrible_ news to him and the rest of the family.

_Oh, Valar…  Give me strength…_

He wiped his eyes again and blew his nose, then turned back to the sorrowful scene.  Thranduil had gotten up to hold Sigrid and offer her some comfort, while Ermon was bent over Tilda’s body...

…and behaving strangely.  He seemed to frantically be checking her over…

“My Lord?” the Healer said in a strange tone of voice.

“What is it?” Bard took a cautious step closer.

“I think…” Ermon picked up Tilda’s wrist and took her pulse.  Then he felt under her neck, and finally he put his ear directly on her chest.

“Ermon, what—"

“QUIET!” the Healer yelled, which stunned everyone to silence, while he listened some more.

Thranduil and Sigrid slowly approached and kneeled at Ermon’s side.

 “Her heart…” Ermon sat up in amazement.  “It is not only beating, My Lord, it is… strong.  It is functioning like a perfectly normal heart!  She—"

 _“What?”_ Thranduil put his hand on Tilda’s chest for a minute. _“Elo!”_

Bard dropped down on his knees.  “What’s going on?”

“I swear to you, Lord Bard,” the Healer looked at him with earnest surprise.  “On my honor, your daughter’s heart was severely damaged, and it stopped!  It did!  But now…”

“You said she was dying!”

“And she was!  She did!”  Truly, she did; I checked myself!   But, now she is…not dead!  That is all I can tell you.” The Healer was incredulous.  “I do not understand how this can be, but I am telling you the truth!”

“Bard,” Thranduil interjected, “He is right.”

“But—”

 “She’s _actually_ alive?” Sigrid asked. “She _didn’t_ die?” She reached over, took Tilda’s pulse, and gasped.  “It’s perfect…”  She looked at Ermon with wide eyes. “It really is!  What happened?” 

“I honestly cannot say, My Lady.” 

“No!” Bard’s eyes widened in trepidation, too afraid to trust what he was hearing.  “No, no, no…. _No!”_  He shook his head, and pointed to Ermon angrily.  “You said…  _You told me…”_

“He speaks the truth, _Meleth nîn.”_ Thranduil grabbed Bard’s hand, and put in on Tilda’s chest and put his over top.  “Look!  See for yourself!”

And there was her heart, beating strong and steady in her rib cage. 

He pulled his hand off and stared at Thranduil.  “HOLY SHIT BALLS!” He cried at the top of his lungs.

“Da-a, don’t swear…” a quiet voice was heard.

Everyone stared at Tilda like she was an apparition. 

“She just talked!” Sigrid said. “Tilda just talked!”

“I always talk, Sig.”  She lifted her hand and rubbed her eye.  “Where are we?”

Thranduil swallowed and looked down.  “We…. are in the woods, _Tithen Pen_.  We rescued you and the others from the wagon.  Do you remember?”

“Oh, that’s right.” She looked over at the wagon and sat up. “It’s on fire...”

“Yes, it is.” Thranduil smiled, then tearfully hugged her, and kissed her hair.  “I cannot believe it!  I cannot believe it!”  he kissed her a few more times.  “You are here…”

Bard reached for her.  “My turn. Come here, Little Bean.” 

Tilda hugged him tight.  “I knew you and _Ada_ would come and save everybody.  Sigrid said so.”

“Of course, we did, love.  No matter what, we will always come.”

“Did anybody get hurt?”

“Just the bad men,” Bard leaned over and kissed her brow and smiled into her face.  “They’re all dead and it’s over.  How do you feel?”

“Good, but tired.” She yawned.  “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes, it is,” he smiled down at her and sniffed and wiped his eyes.  “Way past your bedtime.”

She looked up at him.  “Your face is all splotchy.” Then she looked at Thranduil.  “Yours is, too.  You were crying.”

“Yes, I am afraid we were.” The Elvenking said in a rough voice.  “We thought you were lost to us.”

Tilda reached up and wiped the tears from Thranduil’s face. “There.”  Then she sniffed.  “Your clothes smell like smoke, and they feel crusty.  And your hair got burned, too.”

“Only a bit.  We shall cut it off later, when I can change,” he said.  Then Thranduil started to cry again, and hugged her to him. “Oh, _Tithen Pen_ …”

“Please don’t cry, _Ada_.  Don’t be sad, cause you don’t have to worry about me, anymore.”

“Why is that, Little Bean?”  Bard still stroked her head.  “You were dying, and Ermon _says_ you’re better, but— “

Tilda struggled to sit up.  “I got better.  I’m really,  _really_ better!  Celeborn says!  He told me that Daeron and Gallerdil fixed me.  _And_ I won’t have to worry about getting tired or excited anymore, _and_ ,” She fixed her _Ada_ with fierce glare.  “No more naps!”

Bard shook his head.  “I know how badly you want to—”

“But it’s true, Da!  It really is!  I saw the place with the giant trees, and Celeborn and I went for a walk to this really pretty place and…”  She stopped, and her chin wobbled.  “We talked about Esta.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, love.  I really am.”

“I am, too.  I’ll really miss her, and Celeborn says I’ll feel really sad for a while, but I should try to think about how she went to be with Mam, so I know she’s happy.”  She blinked up at Bard.  “Mam will like Esta, right?”

“I know she will, Little Bean.”

“Maybe, where they are, Esta could tell Mam all about us.”  Sigrid reached down and gave her a hug.  “I’m so glad you’re okay, Til!”

She meant to let go after a minute, but Tilda held her tighter.  “You took care of me, just like when the Orcs came.  I’m sorry it happened, but I’m glad you were with me.”

“I’m glad, too,” Sigrid hugged her again, then sat back and smiled at her.  “That’s what sisters are for, right?”

“Da?”  Tilda asked him.  “I made extra sure about the running and stuff, and he says that they really fixed me.  You believe me, right?”

Bard tilted his head.  “This is…  a lot to digest, and it’s been a long and terrible day…”

“But it’s all over!  _You_ said the bad men are all gone, and— “

“Bard…” Thranduil looked thoughtfully at their daughter. 

“…and I am sure your dream was very vivid, and it _seemed_ real…”

“Bard…”

“But Da-a!”

“Bard…”

“…but until we get you back into Dale and have Ermon check you out…”

_**“** Bard **!”**_

“What?” Bard looked at Thranduil impatiently.  “Listen, we _still_ don’t know what happened here, really, and what if it’s just a fluke?”

“It’s not a fuuke!” Tilda said stubbornly.  “ _He_ _said_ — “

 _“Fluke_ , _”_ Bard corrected, “and I—-“

“Bard,” Thranduil held up Tilda’s hand.  “She’s not making it up _._ Look!”

Bard was speechless, as he looked at the bright yellow star-flower his daughter was holding.  “Where did you get that?”

“Celeborn gave it to me,” she said with a scowl on her face, “because _I_ _told him_ you wouldn’t believe me, and you’d still try to make me take naps, and not let me do _anything_ , and _I was right!_ See?”    She held it up. “It’s a _Enalor_ flower— “

 _“Elanor,”_ Thranduil corrected.  “These only grow in Lothlórien, Bard.  And I know she’s telling the truth because – Sigrid, would you hand me that cloak I gave you?”

The girl quickly took it from her shoulders and handed it over.

“Thank you, _Iellig._ It was Celeborn who helped me get out of the fire, and told me about the _Thrall_.  Here,” He tossed the cloak to Bard, “see for yourself.”

Bard caught the garment, and stared at it.  “This… this isn’t yours,”

“No, it is not.”

“But…but…”. Bard stuttered.  “Where did you get this?”

“It is as I said, _Meleth nîn.”_ The Elvenking’s voice was patient. _“_ Celeborn appeared, then used that, to shield me from the flames.”

“But this can’t be…” he turned it over in his hands and saw a tag on the inside with some Tengwar script (which didn’t tell him a thing, because he still couldn’t read it) but the insignia of the _Mallorn_ leaf was unmistakable….

 ** _“HOLY SHIT BALLS!”_ **  He repeated, and dropped cloak, as if it were burning him.

 _“Da-a!  Language!”_  Both his daughters reprimanded him sharply, then looked at each other and began to giggle.

Thranduil tried to hide his grin, but began to sputter and snicker, and Ermon covered his mouth and shoulders began to shake in silent laughter.  Bard looked at all of them like they’d lost their minds, until he started to laugh, too.

For several minutes, the group of Elves and their rescued hostages whooped and laughed and cried and hugged, as they celebrated their victory and enjoyed being alive.

“Come on, everybody.”  Bard stood up and wiped his eyes. “Let’s go home.”

  

***************

 

**Lothlórien, Galadriel’s Garden**

Celeborn was still chuckling, as he swiped his arm out. The scene from the forest fell away and he was back in the Garden with his wife and Daeron again.

“What do you laugh at, _Hervenn nîn?”_ Galadriel looked puzzled.

“I had a wonderful time with Thranduil’s little Princess.” He grinned.  “The child is every bit as powerful as you are, _Meleth nîn_ , and could charm a Warg into sitting up and doing tricks.”

Daeron smiled and shook his head.  “You have no idea, My Lord. I wish you could see her with Dáin Ironfoot!”

“The Dwarf-King?” Galadriel was incredulous.  “Does he not have a particular reputation for ferocity?”

“He does, and it is well-earned, My Lady; do not doubt it.” The Guard smirked.  “But the King Under the Mountain is but putty in her hands.”

“That I would very much like to see.” Galadriel laughed.

“I would, as well.” Celeborn agreed.  “Though after my encounter with her, I am not surprised.  Oh! I have been asked to relay an important message, on behalf of Lady Tilda.  This is for you,” Celeborn kissed his wife’s cheek, and said merrily, “‘Thanks, Gallerdil!’”

“Do you need anything else, My Lord and Lady?” Daeron asked politely. 

Galadriel looked at him thoughtfully.  “We require nothing more, but perhaps I can do something for you.”

She reached down, and lightly touched the water again, and the scene changed in the Mirror.  It was the Great Hall in Dale, and there was Hilda, sitting with Percy at one of the tables.  They were talking to Ben, and little Darryn was in his lap, sleeping soundly.

“Oh…. He has grown…” Daeron’s hand went to his own chest, as he let out a small sob of relief.  It was one thing for The Lady to tell him the little boy was fine, but seeing it for himself lifted the weight on his shoulders considerably.

“He must have been so frightened…  You are _sure_ he was not hurt?” he instinctively reached for the boy, but Galadriel stopped him, with a hand on his wrist.

“No!  Focus, _Mellon_ , then touch the water lightly.”

Daeron took a deep breath.  _Gi melin, ion vuin…._ Then he extended his forefinger and gave the water a feather-light touch. 

> _…Darryn stirred, lifted his head from Ben’s shoulder and blinked a few times._
> 
> _“What’s the matter, lovey?” Hilda leaned over rubbed his back._
> 
> _Darryn pointed upward and seemed to look right at Daeron.  “Ada!” He said with a grin.  “Ada!”_
> 
> _Everybody at the table looked to see where he was pointing, but saw nothing..._
> 
> _“It’s just a dream, Little Man,” Ben spoke softly.  “Go back to sleep, while we wait for your Mam.”_
> 
> _Darryn lowered his hand, and laid his head on Ben’s shoulder and put his thumb in his mouth. Within seconds, he was once again asleep._

Galadriel leaned down, blew on the water, and the ripples changed the scene to the woods once more.  The rescue party was getting ready to return to Dale. 

> _Rhian was talking with Hannah, and holding the hand of a black-haired little boy, as they made ready to put him on a horse in front of Ruvyn._
> 
> _“Come on, sweetheart,” she said.  “Up you go, and we’ll get you back to your Mam, all right?”_
> 
> _“Okay,” the little boy said, shyly. He looked up at Ruvyn.  “Thank you for helping us. I’m sorry about your arm, though.”_
> 
> _“Please do not worry.  The Healer took care of it, and I will be fine.  Are you ready?”_
> 
> _“Aye.  I want my Mam.”_
> 
> _Rhian smiled at the boy and turned toward the horse she was going to ride…_

Daeron touched the water lightly _just_ as before _,_ and tried to send her as much love as he could manage from that tiny gesture _…_

> _Rhian gasped, stopped suddenly, and looked around._
> 
> _“Are you well, Rhian?” Turamarth came over and asked her._
> 
> _“I’m fine, but…”_
> 
> _“Yes?”_
> 
> _“I just…” she touched her lips, then looked skyward, “it feels like someone just kissed me, but there wasn’t anybody there.”_
> 
> _Turamarth smiled and shrugged.  “It was not me.  Come; let us get you back to your family.”_
> 
> _Rhian touched her lips again, then smiled, as Tur gave her a boost, then mounted up behind her and took the reins._

“Thank you, My Lady,” He said softly.  “This…. means a great deal to me.” His throat tightened painfully, and he had difficulty swallowing.

Galadriel gave him a thoughtful look, and repeated part of the message she had sent a year ago.  _“‘That which you seek, seeks you also.’” **2**_

Daeron’s heart began to pound, “My Lady, can you tell me what that means?  I want to hope, but I am too afraid…”

She came over put her hand on his cheek.  “Let your heart be at peace, Daeron, son of Adamar.  You will find each other soon.”

A tear of relief fell from his eyes.  “Thank you.”  He took her hand and kissed it. _“Le vilui, Brennil Vell.”_

“Go now, Lieutenant.  Get some rest.  It has been a long and tiring night for all of us, but a job well done.”

Daeron tried to speak, but couldn’t, so he nodded, and with a salute, left the Garden.

Celeborn watched the Guardian leave.  “He is a worthy and gifted Elf.  I can see why he has been so favored by the Valar.”

“It is not hard to understand what Thranduil sees in him.”  Galadriel dumped out the water from her Mirror into a flower bed nearby.  “Come, _Meleth nîn;_ I am fatigued beyond description.”

Celeborn took the bowl from her and put it back on the plinth.  “I’m proud of you, _Hervess nîn._   You’re still not quite recovered from your efforts at Dol Guldur, yet you were still willing to help my cousin and his family.  Thank you.”  He took her in his arms and kissed her.  “I love you, very much.”

“I love you, my husband.”

 _“Meleth nin,_ how damaged was the child’s heart?”

Galadriel sighed.  “There was very little that we did not have to rebuild.”

“I wonder,” Celeborn mused, “do you think the Light of Eärendil might bestow any other blessings upon her?”

“Who can say?  Only time will tell.  In the meantime, she will simply enjoy her new life.”

“And talk her _Ada’s_ ear off, I have no doubt.”  Celeborn laughed.  “That child has a lot to say.”

He put her hand in the crook of his arm, and they made their way through the walkways back to their _talon,_ where the lamps were lit, ready for their return.  Caras Galadhon was always beautiful at night, but when the moon was full, and sky was clear, it was breathtaking.

“Galadriel?”

“Yes, _Meleth?”_

“I have to ask: Why did you not tell Daeron the full meaning of the prophecy?”

She gave Celeborn a mischievous smile. “Whatever do you mean, dearest?”

He crooked one eyebrow at her.  “Do not be coy with me.  You know very well what I mean.  Why did you not tell him the rest?”

She stopped on the walkway and stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly.  “Because that _, Hervenn nîn,_ is a joy he should discover for himself.” She gave him a radiant smile.  “Would it not be better as a surprise?”

Celeborn chuckled and tenderly lifted a strand of golden hair from her face.  “I believe you are right.  We could consider it a…wedding gift?”  Now come, My Lady, and let us go to bed; we might even get some sleep…” He winked at her.  “Later.”

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Mae de 'ovannen, Hîr Nîn. –_ Well met, My Lord.

 _Mae de 'ovannen, Riel Tithen –_ Well met, Little Princess.

G _wennig_ – My little maid

 _Nan aear adh in elin!  Elo!_ – By the sea and stars!  Wow!

 _Gi melin, ion vuin_ – I love you, beloved boy.

 _Le vilui, Brennil Vell_ – Thank you, Beloved Lady

 _Hervess nîn_ – My Wife

 _Hervenn nîn_ – My husband

 

**NOTES:**

[1] Fëanor's spirit remained in the Halls of Mandos and was not reincarnated in Valinor.  It is said that he will return only for Dagor Dagorath, and will finally reclaim his beloved Silmarils, and then surrender them to Yavanna:  <http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Feanor>

 

[2] An Invincible Summer, Chapter 9:  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/33615999>


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare is over, and it’s time to take the rescued hostages back to Dale.  
> 
> It is also time to face the difficult task of saying goodbye to lost friends...

 

 

 

"What is family? They were the people who claimed you. In good, in bad, in parts or in whole, they were the ones who showed up, who stayed in there, regardless. It wasn't just about blood relations or shared chromosomes, but something wider, bigger.”

** — Sarah Dessen, Lock and Key**

**Just before dawn, South of Dale, 30 th of May 2943 T.A. **

They made the trip back to Dale at a slower pace, because many of the horses were carrying two riders.  It was just as well - the party needed some quiet time, to calm down and begin to process the events of the last fourteen hours, before they faced the public again.  

Sigrid rode in front of her father on _Fînlossen_ , with blanket around her shoulders, and Bard took comfort in her warm, solid presence, as the aftershocks of their trauma crashed over him in waves.  He had nearly lost his entire family, but the slightly smoky smell of his daughter’s hair comforted him, and reassured him.

He looked over and saw that Thranduil was going through the same thing with Tilda, which was no surprise.  They were both wrapped in Celeborn’s cloak, and she was leaning against him, fast asleep, with her hand clutching her flower.  The Elf would occasionally lean down and kiss the top of her head, and remind himself she was still there.  Bard didn’t blame him. 

 “Da?”  Sigrid leaned back and snuggled into him.

“Yes, Darling?”

“You’re going to have to tell me sooner or later how you did all that.”

“Did what?”

 _“Da-a…._ Come on!  You should have been killed jumping out of that tree, but you landed right on your feet like it was nothing!  I saw you!  Then you did this… somersault thing… right over that man’s head, you know you did!  And you were so fast, everyone saw you!  You fought like _Ada_ does!”

 _“Please_ tell me you didn’t watch the whole thing!”

“Well, no; Ruvyn grabbed me, and made me look away when you hit him, but…”

“As he should!  Look, I did what I had to, but it’s not something I’ll ever feel good about.”

“I think I’d do worse, if someone tried to hurt my kids, but still you… I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you turned into an Elf!  Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sigrid, it’s a long story, and _Ada_ and I need to keep it secret.  We didn’t want to burden you with it—“

“Burden me?  I thought it was fantastic!  You kicked that bastard’s arse!”

“Language!”

Sigrid snorted, and jabbed him with her elbow.  “Isn’t _that_ the Pot calling the Kettle black!” She giggled.  “You might as well tell me, Da.  I know it has something to do marrying _Ada,_ and I’ve read about _fëas,_ but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

He looked around to the rest of the returning party.  “All right, when everything calms down, _Ada_ and I will tell you everything, I promise.”

“Well, you don’t have to tell me where little Elves come from, or anything like that,” she joked.

“Just for that, we’ll tell you anyway.” He snarked back.

“Da-a!  Ew!” His daughter shuddered, then sighed.  “It feels good to laugh, doesn’t it?”

“It does, indeed, my beautiful girl,”  he kissed her temple, and held her close.  “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

“I love you, Da.”

“I love you more.”  He hugged her again, and smiled.

 

At last…  In the gray twilight, just before dawn, the walls of Dale were finally in sight, and the torches could be seen from the top of the walls and by the South Gate.  A horn sounded, and when the Gates opened, a cheer went up.

“Wake up, darling.” Bard whispered in his daughter’s ear. 

“Hmm?”  Sigrid stretched, and blinked. 

Thranduil was doing the same to Tilda.  “I think some people are happy to see you, _Tithen Pen._ Would you not like to open your eyes?”  Tilda woke up from the noise and blinked awake, and Bard saw him lean down and whisper in her ear, then gently take her flower, so she could wave.

Bard thought he had cried himself dry, but the sight of his people lining the streets, cheering and waving and welcoming, did him in.  They all had been through a terrible fright, and rejoiced that it was _over_.  He wiped his eyes frequently, to try and see, but _Fînlossen_ knew the way, and slowed his pace further, to allow the people to see for themselves that their King and his family were safe. 

 “Everybody’s crying, Da.  Don’t be embarrassed.”  Sigrid wiped her eyes, too.

“I wouldn’t know,” he sniffed and smiled.  “Can’t see a thing.”

 

They reached the courtyard at last, and saw everyone was waiting on the dais. 

“There they are!”  Hilda took off down the steps and Thranduil stopped and helped Tilda into her arms.  “Oh, lovey…. We were so worried about you…”

“I know, but you’re squishing me, Auntie Hil.”

Tauriel had Sigrid in her arms just as quickly, and Bain was screaming, “Da!  Da!” and before he realized it. Bard was off his horse and holding his son.  Thangon pranced around the group, barking loudly with excitement.

“I’m so glad you’re all right, son.”  Bard reveled in the solid warmth of his boy.  “I’m so glad…”

“Me, too.  When they told me about the girls, I…”

“I know, but we’re all here.”  Bard stood back and checked Bain. “Were you hurt?  They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Bain lifted his hair and showed him the plaster bandage on his ear.  “An arrow nicked me, and it bled a lot, but it’s fine, only…” Bain looked stricken.  “They shot _Bregolas_ , Da, and the Elves had to put him down.  I wanted to be there to say goodbye, but I couldn’t make him wait, and let him suffer.”

“That’s a good lad.”  The thought of the beautiful black horse with the white star, broke Bard’s heart.  “I’m sorry, son.  I really am.” 

“And Esta’s dead, too; they told me.  Does Til know?”

He nodded, sadly.  “Tilda knows, too.  We’ve got a lot to tell you, Bain; we’ll have a long talk when things settle down, yeah?”

“Sure, Da.”  Bain hugged him again.  “I thought they had killed everybody, and Dáin wouldn’t let me leave!”

“Dáin was right to keep you there, so don’t be angry with him.  No matter what happens to the rest of us, the Northern Kingdoms _must be protected._ That must come first, do you understand?”

Bain nodded reluctantly. “I know; Balin kept saying the same thing.  Tauriel did, too, even though she was mad she couldn’t go either.  Dáin had to force her to stay.”

Bard smiled and looked over at his step-daughter.  She had a bandage on her right forearm and did indeed have several stitches on her cheek.  He could see it hurt her to smile, but she couldn’t help herself.

“I’m glad Dáin kept her safe.  She was just as much a target as you were, Bain.”

The boy swallowed and looked up at him.  “It’s really over, right?”

“All but the cleanup, and we’ll deal with that soon enough.  For now, let’s get everybody inside and get something to eat.”

 

***************

 

“Are you sure you are well, Rhian?” Turamarth’s voice asked her in concern, as she rode in front of him.

“I’m just sore, all over.  And really tired.”

“You put up quite a fight, I am told.  When we get back, we will see about making you a bit more comfortable.”

“Are you _sure_ Darryn’s all right?”

“Yes, _Hind Calen._ He has been taken to the Great Hall for safekeeping.”

“What about Evan and the Guards?”

The Elf hesitated before answering.  “Meldon did not survive, as I am sure you have been told, and Ivran and Evan are in the Healing House.  I am not sure the extent of their injuries, I am afraid, but they were alive when we left to rescue you.  I will find out as soon as I can, and let you know.”

“Thanks, Tur.  For everything.”  She sighed.  “I was _so_ glad to see you there; you have no idea!”

“Of course, I would be there,” He smiled.  “If I let anything happen to you and Darryn, Daeron would have my head!”

“I suppose he would,” Rhian laughed.  “He’s nuts about Darryn, and would’ve hacked those men to pieces, or died trying.” She was silent for several moments, then asked, hesitantly, “Tur, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, you can.”

“You’ve seen violence before, plenty of times.  How does somebody get past something like this? What do you do to get back to normal?”

“I spend time with my friends and family, to remind me of what I fight for.  I try to keep to my regular routine, as much as possible.” he paused, as he steered _Sandastan_ around to get into position behind King Bard.  “Keep your thoughts on all the good in your life.  If you are worried about suffering from anxiety like you once did, I do not believe you will.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“You are not alone, now.  You are surrounded by supportive friends, and you know Daeron cares about you, as well, though he is far away.”

Rhian smiled.  “You’re right.  I just…  can you imagine what Daeron’s going to say, when finds out?  He’ll explode!”

“Oh, I am sure he will.”  Turamarth laughed.  “Then he will be overjoyed that you and Darryn are safe and well, and feel anxious to return, to make sure for himself.”

Rhian felt a pang of…  _Something_ , at the thought of Daeron riding back into Dale, and at that moment, she’d never missed him more.

“It is all right, _Mellon nîn.”_ Tur’s voice was concerned.  “It is over, and just think of how happy Darryn will be to see you.”

“I won’t feel right, until I get my hands on my boy.”

When the party entered the courtyard, Rhian’s heart lift bed at the sight of her son in Da’s arms.

“There he is!” She sobbed.  “There’s my baby!”

After trotted around the fountain, and stopped at the bottom of the steps, Tur quickly dismounted and helped her down.  Then Ben handed Darryn into her arms, and she was crying with relief and happiness. 

“Are you all right, Sweetheart?”  Ben held them both.  “They didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine, Da, really.” She nodded to Hannah, who was being helped down from a Warden’s horse.  “There’s someone else who needs you, too.”

Ben was instantly beside Hannah and once her feet were on the ground, they were off again as he swept her up in his arms.  They didn’t speak, just held each other for several moments, before they pulled Rhian and the baby into their embrace.  Hannah’s son and his family joined them in a group hug.

Everyone’s heart clenched, when Adila ran down the steps with her arms out, and the Elves quickly help her children into her arms, sobbing.  Percy and Hilda stood nearby, to offer support, then gently urged them inside.

 

***************

 

The reunions continued inside the Great Hall, accompanied by a hearty breakfast served by Cook himself, who seemed eager to please, and was pleasant for once. 

To be honest, _that_ made Hilda feel uncomfortable.  The change in his normally gruff demeanor only enhanced the enormity of their trauma, and she found herself wanting nothing more than to see Cook banging around, barking orders and frightening the household staff; things would really be back to normal, then.

But how could things ever be “normal,” again?   Their entire world had been attacked from all sides at once! Meldon, Bron, Wynny, Esta, and Bain’s beloved horse, were all dead.  Yes, things _could_ have been much worse, but what kind of consolation could that be to those families?  How would any of them feel safe again?

 _Get a grip,_ she told herself, fiercely.  _Those bastards are not going to take any more from us!  I won’t let them win; I won’t!_

Hilda took a deep breath and stood up straight, and looked around.

Bard was sitting with Percy, Dáin, and Thranduil, with all three children hanging on to their fathers.  Thranduil still wouldn’t let go of Tilda, but she didn’t seem to mind all that much.  Bain and Sigrid were seated on either side of Bard, and he had his arms around each of them.  Dáin was holding Tilda’s hand, and Percy was ruffling Bain’s hair, and speaking words of encouragement to the boy. 

Thangon was parked under the table with his head resting on Bard’s foot and wouldn’t budge.  He was still pouting about having to stay in Dale, but Thranduil didn’t dare take a chance; with so many members of his family in mortal danger, the Elvenking couldn’t be sure the big dog could restrain himself.  No one blamed Thangon, really; the dog had more than proved his mettle when he helped save Adila, and during the long hours of last night, he had helped the Elves and Dwalin in the Dungeons to sort out the true prisoners from those who had been blackmailed into doing The Boss’s bidding.

Rhian was sitting with Ben, with her baby in her lap.  Darryn was sleeping, but she stared at her little boy in the same way Thranduil held Tilda, two tables over.  Hannah sat on the other side of Ben, and the City Planner had his arms around her and his daughter.  Hannah’s son and daughter-in-law were sitting cross from them, as they held their sleeping children, and chatted easily with Ben and Rhian.  There was _one_ sign of hope for the future, wasn’t it? 

Adila was hugging her children to her, and talking with Ermon and Elenaril.  He was checking the injuries to her face, asking her to follow his finger with her eyes, then touched her nose gingerly, to make sure she wasn’t in any pain.  His wife, Elénaril was checking the children over and encouraging them to eat, but all they wanted was their Mam, the poor dears.  They had just been told of their father’s death and were naturally devastated.  Hilda had made arrangements for all of them to stay in rooms at the Long Lake Inn (at no cost to her), until their home could be cleaned up and all signs of violence removed.  She made a mental note speak to Adila later about perhaps moving to a new house, if that was what they wanted.

Hannah insisted that Ben, Rhian and Darryn stay with her, until repairs could be made their home. Rhian and the baby would take her spare room, and Ben would occupy the couch.  Alun had offered Ben a place at their home, but he wouldn’t be parted from his daughter and grandson, and from the way his hand remained protectively on the small of Hannah’s back, he didn’t want to let _her_ out of his sight, either.  Under normal circumstances, this arrangement might be frowned upon, but these weren’t normal circumstances, were they? 

No; it was right that Old Ben would watch over his family - for everyone could see that he and Hannah were _going_ to be family, and Rhian would not only have a Da but soon, a loving mother, and stepbrothers, along with nieces and nephews!

She smiled as she watched Thranduil approach her and kissed her hand. 

“I see you finally let someone else hold our Little Bean.”  She was only half-teasing, because the Elvenking looked like he had aged a century, and she hated to give voice to her worries, but she _had_ to know.

“Thranduil?  They weren’t… ‘interfered with,’ were they?  You’re sure the girls haven’t been…”

The Elf swallowed and shook his head.  “They have not, praise the Valar.”  His eyes filled.  “I do not know what I would do, if— “

“Shhh,” Hilda suddenly threw her arms around him.  “Don’t think about it, again, and just be happy you’re all safe and sound.”  She stepped back and saw the state of his clothes.  “My lands!  What _have_ you been doing?” She held up the end of his braid. “And your hair…”

“It will grow back.  I will need to borrow your shears, to take off the worst of it, then Galion can trim it, when he comes.”

She took his hand.  “Come with me, love.”  She led him into the Corridor and took him into their Sitting Room.  She picked up her workbasket, and pulled out her scissors.  “Turn around.”  She took a piece of wool, gathered his hair and tied it back, four inches from the ends, then quickly got rid of the singed ends.  “There.  All taken care of.  The clothes can’t be salvaged, I’m afraid.  Best to throw them out and be done with it.”

“It is just as well.  I have no wish to see them again, after this.”  Thranduil turned around and smiled at her.  “Thank you, Hilda.  It was nice of you to make sure a hot meal was ready.”

“Oh, you can thank Cook for that.  I think he feels responsible about Wynny, and trying to make amends.”

“We will talk to him about it, but not today.” Thranduil sighed in exhaustion.  “I have assigned Guards to Hannah, Rhian, and Adila and her family, and they will stay with them as long as they need, to feel secure.”

“Good thinking; that might help them sleep a bit easier.  Now,” she told him firmly, “what do you say, we get everybody washed and off to bed, Aye?  We all could use some sleep.”

He kissed her cheek.  “Yes, My Lady.”

Finally, the small crowds began to disperse.  Bard had decreed that his Council will meet tomorrow, in the late morning, to compare notes and make plans for the City to move on.  Today, they would just be with their families and get some rest.

After a sincere thank-you and a round of applause, all the Elves involved in the rescue were given strict orders to go home and rest, and to take the next three days off.  Rúmil, and Turamarth saluted the Kings, embraced the children, then left with Ben, and his family, and their Guards.  They wanted to go to see Bowen, and his family, to see how they were faring.

Ruvyn had received several hugs from the hostages for his valiant efforts as well, and left with Captain Mablung.   They were headed over to the Healing House to have his arm properly seen to, as well as check on his best friend, Ivran.

The Dwarves got up.  “We’ve go’ te get back,” Dáin said.  “It’s been a long night, an’ I’m pure done in, ye ken.” 

Bard, Percy, Hilda and Thranduil walked them to the dais to see them off.  Bard clasped the King Under the Mountain’s wrist, and tried to speak.

Dáin put his hand atop Bard’s.  “Dinna fash, lad.  Ye jus’ look after those bairns and we’ll see ye soon, aye?”

Bard nodded his head and smiled. 

Dwalin had completely dropped his gruff persona and hugged the King of Dale.  “Thank Mahal yer family’s goin’ te be all right.”

“Thanks, Dwalin.”  Bard patted his back.  “I’m sorry you had to… do what you did in the Dungeons, but you have no idea how grateful…”

“None o’ that, lad.  None o’ that.”  The Dwarven Commander stepped back and met his eyes. “All tha’ matters, is gettin’ yer bairns back safe.”

Thranduil held out his hand and clasped Dwalin’s wrist.  “My heartfelt thanks, _Mellon nîn._ I was told you and Thangon got the prisoners sorted.”

The Dwarf leaned in to whisper, “I’m jus’ glad that Beastie’s on _our_ side.”

After seeing the Dwarves off, Ermon and Elénaril exited the Hall, and bowed to the Kings.

“I want to see you all at the Healing House first thing tomorrow morning, and you _will_ submit yourselves to complete physical examinations, is that clear?” 

“We’ll be there.” Bard agreed.  “Thanks, Ermon.  Now, make sure your wife gets some rest.” He smiled at Elénaril, who had her hand on her growing belly.

Hilda went to Adila, who had come out with her children and two Elven Guards.

“Now, you take it easy, and just be with those kids.” She encouraged the new widow.  “I’ve had some clothes and such from your house sent over to your rooms, at the Long Lake, and Rod and his wife’ll make sure you want for nothing.   Elénaril wants to see all three of you this afternoon, so make sure to go.”

 Adila nodded bravely.  “How are the children at the Orphanage?”

“They’re just fine.  I went and checked on them myself, as soon as Percy and I got back to Dale, and Indis is with them.  They’re a little shook up, but we all are, yeah?”  She cupped Adila’s cheek.  “One foot in front of the other; that’s what my Percy always says, and he’s right.  We’re all here for you, love, and if you need anything, _anything at all,_ you just holler.”

“I will.  Thank you, My Lady.”

Hilda, the Mother of Dale, sighed, went back into the Great Hall, and started clapping her hands together to chase her family off to wash and to bed.

 

***************

 

A few hours later, an Elven Guard named Nualë, newly assigned to the Castle, walked down the Corridor to retrieve Thangon, who was scheduled to be fed, then taken for his afternoon walk. 

She peeked into Lord Bain’s room, where Thangon usually slept, but there was no one there.  Nor was anyone occupying the two beds in the Princess’ room. 

Farien, Lady Tilda’s grey tabby, trotted out of Tauriel’s room to demand something to eat, which wasn’t surprising, as her belly was fat with another litter of kittens, but Lady Tauriel’s room was unoccupied as well.

The Guard’s heart began to pound in alarm. 

She knew, _for a fact,_ that no one left through the Great Hall since the Royal Family had gone to lie down, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t leave through the passageways on the other side!  Those were also heavily guarded, but full of hiding places for someone who intended harm to the Royal Family…

 _Ai, gorgor…_ She couldn’t help the panic, considering the recent scare, and was about to go and tell the others, but decided to check the King’s bedroom first.  She went to the double-doors of the Royal bedchamber and turned the knob.

The entire Royal Family somehow managed to pile on the big bed.  Lord Thranduil was on his back, fast asleep, with Lady Tilda face-down on his chest, and had one hand protectively over the small of her back. His left arm was around Tauriel’s shoulders, whose chair had been jammed against the bed, and her feet had been propped up on one of the footstools. Sigrid was on her side facing the Elvenking, and was holding Tilda’s hand, as she slept.  Next to her was Bain, who was on his stomach, then Bard on the other side of the bed, facing his family, with an arm around his son and daughter.

And, of course, there was Thangon, stretched out on the rug by the hearth, and the sonorous noise that emitted from the giant dog reverberated throughout the room.  Nualë looked down at her feet, as Farien slipped between them into the room, jumped on Tauriel’s lap, and settled down with a loud purr.

Nualë smiled to herself, and quietly turned to leave, but left the door open, just a crack, for the animals to nudge their way out.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 31 st of May 2943 T.A.**

As much as they wanted to stay with their children, Bard and Thranduil couldn’t put off their duties any longer; too many arrangements needed to be taken care of.

Just after breakfast, the Royal Family reported, as ordered, to the Healing House, where Ermon and Elénaril subjected them all to a thorough checkup, and were (eventually) given a clean bill of health.   Tilda tolerated the endless poking, prodding, and questions, only because her Da warned that if she didn’t, she wouldn’t get permission to resume normal activities.  She bore it with remarkable patience, but after being asked to repeat her story for the fifth time, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, and asked to go home.

Of course, Thranduil had already sent a fervent note of thanks, via bird, to Lothlórien, for the immeasurable help they had been given.  How could you thank someone who had given you back your life, and that of your little girl?

The Elvenking also sent one to the Palace, informing them of Meldon’s unfortunate death, and asked that Galion and Feren break the news to his family, and to extend them every courtesy, until they could bring his body to the Woodland Realm for burial.

Then the Kings met with members of the Council in Dale, to make sure that those who had been affected would receive the proper support, and to decide what should be done with the prisoners. Dwalin and Thangon had worked well together, and the victims and the criminals were being held in separate sections of the prison, to await the pleasure of the King of Dale.

The revelation that this “Jarod” character was actually a _Thrall_ , had an effect on the level of guilt for many of them, and seemed to coincide with claims of the one called Bert. Thirteen of the Men imprisoned claimed they were forced to participate, and though they did not wish for mercy for themselves, begged for protection for their families.

Captain Mablung, as well as the Elf in charge of the Dungeons, attended the meeting, and reported that the prisoner called Chuck had indeed bled to death from his injuries, though no one mourned him.  Sandy remained stoic and defiant, as well as the one called Monty,and five more henchman. 

 

After the meeting was adjourned, Bard and Thranduil planned to go visit Ivran and Evan, and were not surprised when Sigrid asked to go along. 

“I _need_ to see them, Da; they went through so much to help us, and I feel like I should be there.”

“I agree, _Iellig_ , but only if it will not upset you. What do you think, Bard?”

The King of Dale studied his daughter carefully.  “I think it would do you good, Darling.” He kissed her forehead.  “Come on, then.”

Ermon’s original assessment of Ivran’s injuries had been correct:  The barbed arrowhead in his abdomen could only be removed by forcing it through to the back, but even so, the damage had been considerable.  Once he was brought in and put to sleep, it was a quick procedure, yet delicate and very dangerous. Ivran had been taken to a room, and would remain in a Healing Sleep, for at least three more days, where he was constantly monitored. 

Ivran’s parents had arrived from the Palace last evening, and were sitting beside his bed, when the Kings and the Princess entered the room.

 _“Pinnig maer, hiril vuin?”_   Thranduil took his mother’s hand in both of his. 

She nodded and leaned on her husband, who put his arm around her shoulder. 

Sigrid came forward, and curtsied deeply to the Elven couple, and said in perfect Sindarin: _“On behalf of my sister and my friends, please accept our sincere thanks for your son’s bravery, and our hopes for his recovery.”_

The Elves returned her gesture with watery smiles and nods.  “We are told his recovery will be slow, but we are grateful he is still with us.”   

“Ivran will not enjoy his confinement,” Thranduil smiled ruefully and stroked the Guard’s brow.  “But he will follow orders, you can be sure of that.”  Then he said a blessing and a prayer for his healing, and left to see the other patient.

Evan had sustained several cuts, a separated shoulder, a wound to his leg that  _barely_ missed his artery, and a severe concussion.  His right eye was swollen shut, and they had to wake him up every few hours to ask him pertinent questions, but, like Ivran, if he minded his Healers, he would eventually be all right. 

“The Elves tell me I’m still one piece,” he tried to smile, but his mouth was still swollen.  “They keep telling me I’d be in a lot more pain if it wasn’t for them, but it sure doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“They’re not kidding, you know,” Bard told him sincerely.  “Ermon told me you developed some bleeding on your brain, and they had to work quickly to get rid of it, or you wouldn’t be here right now.  Or a vegetable.”

“I know,” Evan said, quietly.  “Don’t tell Rhian any of that, please.  She’s been through enough already.”

Bard agreed.  “Has she been in to see you, yet?”

“Not yet, and I won’t stop her, but to be honest, I’d rather she not see me until my face is more recognizable.”

“You do look terrible,” Thranduil smiled.  “I am not sure we can keep her away, _Mellon_ , but we will encourage her to wait a few days, until the Healers can do some thing more about the bruises.”

“Could you?  All that matters, is that she’s all right, and the baby wasn’t hurt.  I just want to get better and get back to work.”

“How long will you be in here?” Sigrid asked. 

“They think I’ll be here another few days, but it’ll take a couple of weeks before I’m up and around a lot, so Alun and Rhys offered to let me stay with them. My apartment is on the third floor of my building, and stairs aren’t my friend, right now.”

“Let us know if there is anything you need.”  Sigrid went over patted his arm.  “Thank you, for everything.”

“My pleasure, Princess.”

As soon as they closed Evan’s door, Sigrid burst into tears. 

Both Kings had been waiting for this, and they quickly led her into an empty room, sat her down on a bed, and Bard held her, as she let it all go.

“You come by this legally, you know.” Bard handed her his kerchief. “Your mother used to do it, too.”

“Do what?” She wiped her eyes.

“Mattie could get through _anything_ while it was happening, but a couple of days later, if she dropped a fork on the floor, or missed a stitch in her knitting, she’d fall apart.” Bard hugged her to him.

“It’s true.” Sigrid wiped her face.  “I always kind of go numb, or get mad and get through it.  It’s when things are better, that I start bawling like a stupid baby.”

“ _Iellig_ , you are not stupid.”  Thranduil told her gently, as he handed her a cup of water. “Not by any stretch of the imagination.  In fact, it will help you be a good Healer, because you stay calm and get things done.”

“ _Ada_ is right.  You’ve had a trauma, and just like it is good for Tilda to cry and mourn, you need to do that, too.”

“Is it terrible that I _hate it_ when people see me cry?  Not because I’m afraid of what I look like, though I do get all splotchy and ugly.  But…  I just don’t like to feel so… _exposed_ in front of people I don’t know well.”

“Oh, Darling,” Bard hugged her to his side.  “You’re just private with that stuff; there’s nothing wrong with that.  And you could never be ugly.”

“I suppose.”  She finished wiping her eyes.  “Can we go home now?”

“You bet.  We’ll take you home, then I want you to lie down for a while and take things easy.  All right?”

 

After drooping Sigrid off, the Kings made a quick visit the Orphanage to say hello.  The children from Harad, who had been terribly frightened, were grateful to see them.   Indis was there working with them, as well as the rest of the staff, and that was a good sign.  They all asked after their beloved Mistress Adila, and Bard assured them that she would stop by soon. 

Thranduil had expressed outrage that the children had found out about Bron, but Bard shrugged.  “It’s better this way, love.  I wouldn’t want them asking questions out of ignorance; that would put Adila in the position of telling them herself.  Now they can all try to comfort her, which will do her a world of good.”

Their next stop was the Dungeons, where they spoke to Bert again, and confirmed Captain Mablung’s earlier report.  The Men that had been blackmailed and threatened were separated from the rest, and were given more comfortable surroundings.  Surprisingly, none of them asked to be released, though if they did, Bard wouldn’t grant it.  The King of Dale informed them they would remain in custody, while they gathered evidence to confirm the truth of their stories.

Then Bard and Thranduil went down several flights of stairs to the cell where the remaining seven Men were being held.

“Your loyalty to your leader, the one known as ‘Jarod,’ along with the testimony of fourteen of the Men you forced into service has sealed your fate.” Bard told them.  “I will not order your executions; there has been enough death from all of this.”  At the relieved look on their faces, Bard held up his hand.  “The King of Harad is entitled to seek his own vengeance for the irreparable harm to his people.  Therefore, you will be given into his custody and he will dispose of you as His Majesty sees fit.  May the Valar have mercy on your souls, for you will get none from him or me.” 

With that, King Bard and the King Thranduil turned on their heels and left them to rot.

Then they went home to spend the evening with their family.

 

After dinner they spent the evening quietly together in the Sitting Room.

Bain had news:  Rhys and Bowen had come by earlier, to say that Beriel had given birth - Thangon was now a father!  Mother and all eight pups – three males and five females – were doing fine.

Bain and Sigrid made plans to go see them soon, but when asked, Tilda shook her head.

“Why not, Little Bean?”  Bard asked her. 

But she just shrugged and said nothing.  Bard and Thranduil’s eyes met, then spoke of happier things, such as the results of Ermon’s examination.  It was indeed the best news: after almost sixteen months, their baby was given a clean bill of health, and the days of hovering and nervousness were over!

“Ermon said I’m really better, but my muscles need time to get strong again, so I have to do _more_ exercises!” Tilda made a face. 

“He’s right, Beanie.  But did he tell you what kind?”

“No.”

“Well, he told _Ada_ and me that he wanted you to start running, climbing, jumping and all that, just do it a little at first, then more every day.”

 “I still can hardly believe it.”  Hilda had her arm around the little girl. “You’re cheeks are so pink, lovey!”

It was true.  No one had realized just how grey her skin tone had become, though they couldn’t help but notice the blue tinge to her fingernails, or how often her hands and feet became cold.  Now, of course, her hands were warm, and she took deep breaths, without difficulty.

“Celeborn and Galadriel have given me back my family…  How do I begin to thank them?” Bard wondered, not for the first time.

“I think they did it, because _you_ are their family, as well, _Meleth nîn_.  I do want to go see them soon, Bard; they deserve to see for themselves the miracles they have wrought.”

“We’ll do that, love.  I don’t know when I can get away, but even if you have to take the children by yourself, we should make that happen.”

 “Da?” Tilda came over and asked, “Can I stay with you and _Ada_ again tonight?”

“Sure thing.  Don’t think you can try your own bed, yet?”

She shook her head, looked at him with sad eyes.  “Esta always slept with me.  It wouldn’t feel right.”

“I know, Beanie.”  He rubbed her back.  “You’re going to need to try, sooner or later, but not right now.”

 

When she had gotten into her pajamas, and crawled into bed between them later, the Elvenking noticed something was missing.  She had Daisy and her Elf-doll Meriel, but…

“Where is Charlotte, _Tithen Pen?”_ Thranduil asked her.  “Greta took such pains to make sure she was cleaned up for you.”

“She’s on my bed.” 

“I shall get her for you,” he sat up, and grabbed his robe.

“No, don’t… please?”

Bard's eyes widened with concern.  “What’s wrong, Beanie?”

“She just... makes me think about things,” she shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

“I was playing with her, when they…came in and the man took her and threw her, and the other man hurt Esta and...  I just keep thinking about it, then my stomach hurts.  I know it’s not Charlotte’s fault, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but I can’t…  look at her right now.”

“I’m sure Charlotte understands.”  Thranduil told her.  “Perhaps we will ask Sigrid to look after her for a while, yes?”

Thangon jumped up on the foot of the bed and put his head on Tilda’s feet, with a soft whine.

“He’s missing Esta, too.” Bard said. 

 

The next few days were filled with the sad task of bidding farewell to loved ones.

Bregolas was buried on the edge of Hope Field, in a large hole dug by Farmer Jarvis and his sons, along with several volunteers.   The Royal Family stood with Bain as he tearfully said goodbye to his friend and companion in a small, private service, Tauriel and Turamarth stood on either side of Bain, Rhys and Bowen, and sang the brave horse’s spirit to its final resting place.

They laid poor, brave Esta to rest in a large flowerbed by the Courtyard.  She was buried with her toys and wrapped in Tilda’s quilt, because that was where she’d always slept. The family was joined by their Guards, Miss Eryn, and several of her schoolmates who had the pleasure of knowing the friendly, black and white dog sheep dog.  Even Cook, who had been particularly fond of her, came out and buried a bone with her, and gruffly wiped his eyes.

 Tilda solemnly laid her _Elanor_ flower atop the mound of dirt, then burst into tears.  Bard picked her up and held her and whispered words of comfort, but it did little good.

“I know Esta went to b-be with Mam, but I w-want her here, with me!  She was my f-friend,” she howled into his shoulder.  “I want her back, Da! I w-want her back!”

“I’m so sorry, Little Bean.”  Bard could say little, but he held her and rubbed her back.  “We’ll all miss her.”

 

The funeral for Bron, Adila’s husband, was attended by just about everyone, especially the Harad children, who were anxious to offer their friend what comfort they could. The traditional pot-luck meal was served in the Great Hall, and the Blacksmith’s wife and children were offered heartfelt condolences.  A large group of volunteers were already at work on the repairs to their home, and would be ready by the end of the week.

The kitchen maid, Wynny, was laid to rest as well.  Bard had ordered that the truth of her behavior with Tim - if that was even his real name – be put under seal, as it was clear she had been victimized, too.  Her little cousin and his adoptive Elven parents came from the Woodland Realm, to pay their respects, and Cook stood next to Hilda and Greta and wiped his eyes with his red kerchief. 

“I shoulda looked out for her better.” He sniffed.  “She was a good girl, My Lord, and too innocent for the likes of that bastard.  I should have paid attention, and I didn’t.”

“She was a good girl,  Hilda tried to offer some comfort.  “Wynny only wanted what any girl does: someone to love her and hope for the future.  There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know she had no business speakin’ of your comings and goings My Lady, and believe me—“

“Don’t worry about that now.  In any case, she paid the ultimate price for her mistake.  We’ll speak to the staff, but I think they’ve all learned a good lesson from this, don’t you?”

Cook sighed sadly.  “I should have done better.”

“Everyone saw how you watched out for her, my friend.” Bard assured him. 

“If you say so, My Lord.”  He and Greta, the housekeeper, stepped forward after Bard said the blessing, and laid a bunch of flowers on the fresh mound of dirt.

 

Thranduil held a Memorial Service in Dale for Meldon, who had dedicated his life to the service of the King he loved, protecting a family he had grown to deeply care about.   That was little consolation to the Prince and Princesses, who had considered him a close friend.  Tilda tried to remember what Celeborn had told her about the Halls of Waiting, and offered a prayer that he wouldn’t be there long, because he was so nice.  She decided she would pray for him and Esta every night.

After the service, Thranduil made ready to accompany the body to his Kingdom for the burial, which would take place the following day.   He and Bard had discussed the idea of taking the children with him, for a change of scenery, but wasn’t surprised when they elected to stay with their Da.

 “I must go, though I hate to leave you all.”  Thranduil said with regret.  “But I will be back in three days, and I will bring Galion with me.”

“It’s okay, _Ada_ ; we’ll be all right.”  Sigrid hugged him tight.  “Just hurry back.”

“Tell Meldon’s Mam and Da I’m sorry about what happened.”  Tilda kissed him.  “I liked him a lot.”

“I know you did, _Tithen Pen_.” He nodded.  “I will tell them.”

“Bye, _Ada_.”  It was Bain’s turn to hug the Elvenking.  “You just look after Meldon’s family, and tell Galion we can’t wait to see him.”

“I will _Ionneg._   I am sure he is most anxious to see you all, as well.”

Bard stepped up.  “I hate letting you out of my sight, you know.  This is hard.”  He forced himself to smile.  “Tell Galion to fix your hair, while you’re at it.  It still looks choppy.”  Then he kissed his husband and held him tight.  “You love me, very much.  Hurry back.”

Thranduil chuckled.  “And you love me, very much.  I will be back in three days.”

And they waved as they watched the Elvenking ride away, then turned back to go inside.

It was time to start moving on, as best they could.

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Pinnig maer, hiril vuin_ – Are you well, beloved lady?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with my little story! I do not own any of Tolkien's original characters.


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Sigrid have a frank discussion, Rhian confronts her fears, and both our Kings need a bit of help to move on, but what they really need is each other… 
> 
> …and the “Elf Thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've created a Pinterest Board called "Two Thrones Series on AO3" with pictures of many of the Characters in this series as I have imagined them.  Click on each picture to read a short bio I made for each of them.   Enjoy!  https://www.pinterest.com/wendyw0051/two-thrones-series-on-ao3/
> 
>  

 

“Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness in my soul. I find myself searching the crowds for your face - I know it’s an impossibility, but I cannot help myself.”

** \- Nicholas Sparks, Message in a Bottle **

 

**City of Dale, 5 th of June 2943 T.A.**

“Sigrid, can I see you a minute?  You too, Hilda, please?”

“Sure, Da.”  Sigrid came into Bard’s bedchamber and sat on the bed, as Hilda took a seat by the hearth.

“Look, I know _Ada_ and I have been busy these past few days—”

“Da-a, you and _Ada_ have been frantic!” She leaned forward.  “Are you two all right?  Really?”

He patted her hand.  “We’re working on it, Darling.”

“I’m worried about you, too.” Hilda interjected.  “And since the attack, Thranduil looks bloody awful!”

“I agree.  Galion knows him better than anyone alive, and I’m trusting him to get to the bottom of what’s going on.”  He turned to his daughter.  “Sig, we need to talk about what you saw that night in the woods.  I’ve already spoken a bit to Hannah and Rhian, and told them this is under Seal, do you understand?”

“That means I can’t talk about it?”

“Yes, but placing a matter under Seal is an official proclamation,” Hilda explained, “which means that if you reveal what you know, you’ll be breaking the law.”

“Da-a!” The girl’s eyes widened, at Bard.  “You _threatened them?”_

“Honey,” Hilda said, “it’s a formality, but your Da has good reason for this.  He’ll tell you, but only if you promise to keep this to yourself.”

“Fine.  I will, though I don’t get it.  Why don’t you want anybody to know?”

“Because Dale is new, and the Northern Kingdoms aren’t stable yet, and we need outsiders to see for themselves that I can run this Kingdom.  If word gets out that I have…  changed, it could cause problems.”

“I don’t see why…”

Hilda chimed in.  “Dale needs to be better established, and it will be, by the time Bain takes over as King.  We need to give it a few more years, for your Da to finish rebuilding….”

“…and Dale needs to be able to form its own Army.  Right now, we rely on the Elves to defend us, but we can’t do that forever.  And in the meantime, I need a chance to earn their trust.”

“But don’t you think lying to them is wrong?”

“I’m not lying to them, Sigrid.  At the moment, this is a ‘personal’ situation, and it’s not affecting how I run the Kingdom.  Later on, it will, and then I will step aside and let Bain take over…”

“Step aside?”

“Sigrid, let me tell you what happened the night your _Ada_ and I decided to marry each other…”  

Bard went on to explain the choice that Gandalf put before them, and his reasons for choosing to adhere to Thranduil’s fate.  Sigrid’s eyes grew wide, as he spoke, and her mouth dropped open.

“Oh, my…. You mean…”

“It was a lot to take in, I admit it.” He shrugged.  “I actually fainted, if you must know.”

“Wow…” Sigrid sat back.  “Just…wow.  So, you’re like, an Elf now?”

“Not exactly.  I don’t really know what that makes me, besides someone who loves my husband, and my family.  But it’s true that I won’t age any more than I have, and unless I’m killed, I won’t die.  And, I’m stronger, and faster.”

The girl stared at her father, and said nothing. 

“Sigrid?” Hilda said gently.  “He is still the same Da you’ve always loved, but you see him differently, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“So, how much more do you think the people of Dale will react?  This could cause real problems, and at worst, a battle for control of the City, don’t you see?  Once your Da has a real chance to earn their trust, it won’t matter to them.”

“You _really_ won’t die?”

“Not unless I’m killed, and even if I am, I’ll end up with _Ada_ in Valinor.  As far as my abilities, I didn’t know exactly how joining _fëas_ with _Ada_ would change me physically - no one did - but Ermon keeps a close eye on me, and I had to relearn a lot of things.” He laughed.  “Feren and Tauriel can tell you how gracefully I handled that.”

“Tauriel knows?  She’s known all this time?”

“All the Elves know, because they can see it right away.  But they will not speak of it - not even Tauriel, because she is under orders from _Ada,_ and will never betray that trust.”

“Are you...glad?  I mean, you’re happy with _Ada,_ right?”

Bard smiled. “I am very happy with _Ada._ I don’t regret my choice, Sigrid, not for one second.  Dale will have someone to lead them, and the Woodland Realm needs _Ada._ I couldn’t let him desert his Kingdom for me, do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“Even your Mam found a way to give me her blessing.”

“What?”

“That same night, I…  she came to me, Sig.  Her ghost did.  I thought I was imagining it, but it was real.  She wanted me to move on, and not be afraid to be with _Ada_ , even though it meant I wouldn’t see her again.”  Bard paused for a moment.  “Still, the idea that I’ll lose all of you, rather than the other way around is…” he smiled apologetically,  and his voice became rough.  “I’m sorry…  That part’s really hard to talk about…”

Sigrid got up and sat on the arm of his chair.  “Don’t think about it, okay?  I’m here now, we all are, and I promise I won’t say anything.  How much does Hannah and Rhian know?”

“Only that marrying _Ada_ changed things, and that I will tell everyone when it’s the right time.  I didn’t want to burden them with details.  I hate burdening you,” he took her hand and kissed it, “but I know you’ll do the right thing.”

“I will.” She reached down and hugged him.  “It will take a minute or two to absorb all this, but I love you, you know that, right?”

“I do.”

 

***************

 “Are you ready, pet?”  Hannah had her arm around Rhian’s shoulders.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”  She made herself stand up straight, and opened the front door of her house.

The worst of the mess had been swept up.  The pools of blood had been scrubbed from the stones outside on the porch, and from the inside hall, where Ivran had fell, and the bits of broken glass and pottery and soil from all her potted plants had been swept clean.   The windows had been boarded over, but Ben had already purchased more glass from the Dwarves, and his men had begun to pull off the wood and replace them.

Still, their home was a mess, and the sight of it made Rhian’s stomach churn with anxiety, and she burst into tears.

Hannah held her for a while, as she worked through her distress, but when she started to wonder if she could ever feel safe again, that’s when the young girl lifted her head from the woman’s shoulder, and got angry.

“No!” she wiped her eyes.  “I won’t let those arseholes chase me from my own house!  I won’t do it!”

“That’s the spirit.”  Hannah rubbed her back.

“It’s true!” she stomped her foot.  “This is the first place, that ever felt like a _real_ _home,_ and I will be damned if I’m going to let a bunch of filthy, lowlife bastards take it from me!  No more!”

Her words were met with a round of applause, not only from Hannah, but from her Da, who happened to walk in, just then.

“That’s my girl!”  Ben kissed her forehead.  “I knew you had it in you.  You get that from your Mam.  Ooh, she was a firecracker when she was young!”

He reached over and kissed Hannah’s cheek.  “Hello, you.”  He smiled down at her. 

Hannah had the grace to blush.  “Hello, you.  What are you doing here?”

“I can only stay a minute, then I’ve got to get to work.  The new windows should be ready by the end of this week.  Rhian, can you to make a list of all the furniture to be replaced, and I’ll order most of it from the Palace.  Some of it can be done here, but we need too much all at once.”

“Sure.  We’ll have it this afternoon.  I think we should send one of the dining room chairs back to the Palace to make sure the new one’s match.”

“Whatever you want.   Where’s Darryn?”

“He is with Lady Sigrid.  I don’t want him here until I can scrub the place down, and make sure all the broken glass is gone.”

“Good.  I’m headed to the Castle next, so I’ll pop in and see him.  Have fun!” he grinned wryly and was off.

 

The back garden wasn’t nearly as bad as Rhian had feared.  Just a few beds of annuals had been ruined during Ruvyn’s struggle with the bandits, but those could easily be replaced, but her real concern were the perennials…

“Oh, thank the stars!”  she breathed, when she checked one of the beds.

“What?”

“I was afraid they ruined Daeron’s flowers, but they’re all right!  I don’t want to think what it would be like if they had damaged them!”

“The flowers can be replaced you know.”   Hannah studied her carefully.  “Even those bulbs.”

“Oh, I know; it’s just that…   It would’ve been awful if they didn’t get to bloom.  I think I know what they are, but I’ve been anxious to see them.”

“Really?”

“I know it’s silly, sometimes, but when I sit out here, I feel like Daeron’s not so far away.  He’s the best friend I’ve ever had, and I… miss him.”  She sighed. “Especially since all this happened, you know?”

“I know.”  Hannah said quietly.  “It’s been hard, for everyone.”

Rhian sat down next to her.  “Stars, I’m only thinking about myself, aren’t I?  Are _you_ all right, Hannah?”  She put her arms around the woman.

“Oh, I’m fine.  Or rather, I _will_ be.”  She laid her cheek on Rhian’s head.  “It’s tough going, at times, but I’m glad you’re all staying with me.”

“Do you have bad dreams, too?”

“It’s funny.  I have nightmares, but not about that.  I’ve been dreaming about my father, and my childhood.  I think all the violence triggered them, but I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“Me, too.”  Rhian sounded relieved.  “I mean, I’m dreaming about Garth and Phylip.”  Rhian lifted her head and gave her friend a determined look.  “We can’t help our dreams, but I’ll be damned if they get one minute of my day.  They don’t deserve it!”

“Listen to you!”  Hannah chuckled, and hugged her again.  “Can you see how far you’ve come, since Darryn was born?  Good for you!”

“Good for _us.”_ Rhian hugged her tight.  “Good for _all of us.”_

 

***************

 

Darryn was running up and down the Great Hall, squealing and dragging his blankie, as Sigrid and Tilda chased him.  Bard had heard the noise and left his study to watch them for a few minutes.  The sounds of joy and laughter felt like a balm to sooth everyone’s still-jangled nerves.

He felt Percy come up behind him, and put a hand on his shoulder.  “They’ll be all right, son.”

Instinctively, Bard leaned back a little, on this man who has been like a father to him.  “I hope so.  I’m glad the baby’s here.  It’s cheering them both up.”

“Frankly, I’m surprised Tilda didn’t go into shock like she did after the Battle.” Percy observed, as he watched her dodge around the tables and chairs.  “Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

“Me either.”

Percy nudged him.  “Bard, at the risk of becoming a nag, I’d like to repeat my request.”

“Which one is that?”  Bard looked at him in curiously.

“The one where you all to quit trying to die on me![2]  You’re turning me into an old man, you know.”

“You _are_ an old man,” Bard smirked, and jabbed at him, “’Old Man.’”

“Speak for yourself!  I’m still in the flower of my youth, and I plan to stay that way.” The Steward looked at him from the corner of his eye, then turned back to watch the children.  “It does my heart good to see them like this.”

“The kids do fine, as long as we’re in the building, but have you seen any of them go outside unless they had to?” Bard asked him.  “The burials were different; we all went as a group, but Bain hasn’t gone to see the new puppies, Sigrid makes excuses not to go to the Healing House, and Tilda hasn’t slept in her own bed since we brought her back, and she doesn’t want Charlotte anymore!”

 “Bard,” Percy said softly, “it hasn’t even been a week.  I’d say give it a few more days, then get them back to their regular routine.”

“You’re right.  It’ll be easier when Thranduil gets back.  I hate that he left, but I would’ve insisted he go, if he’d hesitated.  Meldon’s family must be in agony… He has parents, and a sister, did you know that?”

“I heard.  I liked the lad, and he seemed to enjoy looking after the girls.”  Percy said quietly.

Bard grew pensive.  “I took those Guards for granted, Pers.  I didn’t know I was doing it, of course, but I did, and now I feel ashamed.”  Bard said, thoughtfully.  “I remember when Thranduil first assigned them right after the Battle…  I was annoyed as shit, and argued with him about it, did I ever tell you that?”

“No, but I’m not surprised.  That sounds like something you’d do.”  He smirked at the Bowman, and nudged him with this shoulder. “You just weren’t used to being some hifalutin’ potentate.”

“True.  I’m still not used to it.”  He smiled, sadly.  “Then this happens, and an Elf is dead, and another’s insides are chewed to bits from an arrowhead...  Gods, Pers; how do I stop feeling guilty about it?  They’re working on Thranduil’s orders, which they’ll follow without question, but they got hurt on _our_ behalf, not his!  I wouldn’t blame for resenting us, would you?”

“But they don’t, Bard.  They stayed at first, because they love Thranduil, but now, they love us for _ourselves._   Look.”

Bard observed the smiles on the Guards faces, as they watched Darryn giggle and zoom around with Sigrid and Tilda chasing him.  The girls were trying to tire him out before his nap, and from the looks of it, it was having the opposite effect.  The little boy was shouting and laughing, and it looked like his poor little blanket needed a wash (Everyone knew that was always tricky – Darryn hated to be parted from it).   He toddled over and began to climb all over Thangon, who was lying down by the fire pit.  The great dog patiently bore Darryn’s attentions, until he got bored and began to run again.

“A baby’s laughter has a magic more powerful than even the Valar can muster,” Bard said softly.  

Percy turned around to go back to their study, “It’s going to be all right, Bard.”  He squeezed Bard’s shoulder again, and went back to work.  “It really will.  You’ll see.”

He knew Percy was right; there was little use in looking for problems where there were none.  The King of Dale took a deep breath and walked forward, catching Darryn up in his arms with a growl.   “Gotcha!” he grinned. 

It would take a while, but they _would_ be fine.

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 8 th of June 2943 T.A.**

Since the moment he stepped out of the flames (or had been _thrown out_ , by Celeborn) Thranduil’s focus had been on others. 

First, he had to get Bard free from the _Thrall,_ make sure it was disposed of properly, then see that the hostages were all right.  Then there were the all the arrangements that had to be done, he needed to help with the injured, confront the prisoners, comfort his children, bury the dead in Dale, then prepare to take Meldon home for the final time, where he would help the Elf’s family lay him to rest with full honors.

Thranduil had sent Feren to the family, to break the news, then the Commander escorted them from their village, to a suite in the Royal Wing, where they would stay until after the funeral.  As soon as the Elvenking arrived at the Palace, he headed straight to the suite to meet Meldon’s parents, to offer his personal condolences and offer them his support.  Then he sat and held the mother’s hand and listened to them, as they expressed their grief, and shared stories of their son.

“He loved his job, My Lord,” his mother said tearfully.  “The day he was promoted to Lieutenant and asked to join the Guardians was the proudest day of his life.  He had dreamed of that since he was a child.”

“Meldon was a good friend to my son, and we will miss him very much.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Meldon’s father said.  “He and Prince Legolas were always together, and I think perhaps that’s why he requested to work in Dale; he wanted to help look after you all in your son’s absence.”

Thranduil’s throat tightened, and it was a few moments before he could speak.  “Legolas treasured Meldon’s friendship, but your son was well-respected both here and in Dale, not only by my husband and our family, but by all who knew him.  I encourage you to visit the City soon, if you can.  You will find many who are eager to pay their respects.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Meldon’s father bowed his head.  “Perhaps we will, one day.  For now, we will return with our daughter, to await the birth of our grandchild.”

“Of course,” Thranduil stood and bid them good night. “You may stay at the Palace for as long as you wish; if there is anything we can do in the future, you need only ask.”

The funeral was moving and beautiful, as was the song of the Elves, as they laid Meldon into the ground and sang his _fëa_ to the Halls of Waiting.  Thranduil joined in the song, and shed a few tears of his own, as he mourned not only the young Lieutenant, but all the Elves who had died in service to his Kingdom.  He prayed that their stay in Mandos’ Halls would be brief, and that they would know joy and peace with their new lives in Valinor.

During all that, Galion fussed over the Elvenking.  Thranduil allowed it, and though he hated to admit it, he appreciated it.  Almost immediately after he arrived in his Chambers, the Aide threw his arms around him and held him tightly from relief, then checked him over to make sure he was unhurt, despite repeated assurances that he was fine.  He smiled to himself when Galion grieved over the loss of some of his hair, and sat patiently, while Galion carefully trimmed it even.

“It will grow back, Galion.” 

“Be quiet, and allow me to fret; it makes me feel better.  Now, hold still, or your hair will be uneven.”

Thranduil reached his hand back and took the Aide’s.  “Thank you for staying here and taking care of things, _Mellon._ I know you wanted to rush to Dale and see us.”

Galion stopped for a moment, as he squeezed the Elvenking’s hand.  Then he took a deep breath, and resumed his mindless chatter, as he finished trimming the Elvenking’s hair. 

Throughout his stay, Thranduil could see Galion look at him with worry in his eyes, and knew his Aide and friend would not rest until he got to the bottom of what was weighing down his heart.  On the last evening before they were due to return to Dale, Galion got tired of waiting, and spoke up.

They had finished a private dinner in his chambers, and were settled on the couches enjoying some wine and a quiet evening, before they were to return to Dale.

“Thranduil?”

“Hmmm?” He answered absently.

“Are you well?” The Aide looked at him intensely.

“I do not know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do.”  Galion got up and sat down beside him.  _“Mellon nîn,_ your children were attacked, Tilda very nearly died, and _you nearly burned to death!”_  He put his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder.  “I know it is affecting you; I can see it!”

The Elvenking said nothing, just stared into his glass. 

The Aide pressed further.  “Have you had a chance to talk to Bard about any of this?”

He shook his head.  “There has been no opportunity or time…”

“Because you have been taking care of everyone else.”

“We have to, Galion!  We are Kings, and when disaster strikes, our people _must_ come first!” he sighed.  “It is no one’s fault; if I were married to someone other than a ruler of his own nation, it would be different, but this cannot be helped.”

“That is not necessarily true.  You have me, and Bard has Hilda and Percy.  You _do_ have people to look after you, Thranduil.  But there is only so much we can do.  What you need,” he smiled, “is _each other._  You miss being with him, do you not?”

Thranduil nodded.  “I do.  Beyond the physical, which I miss very much, I feel… apart from Bard.  I have for a while.”

“You _have been_ apart from Bard!  You were here for over a week before the attack, and had only returned to Dale minutes before the incident.”

“It was worse than that, _Mellon_.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had sensed something was going to happen, and was fretful for a month before then. Bard was frustrated and fed up, because I could not say exactly what I was afraid of.  Then I returned, and lost my temper, because he allowed Bain to go riding outside the City Gates, and we had a terrible argument.  When we learned the girls were taken, and saw the state of Ben’s home, and Esta…  Bard was furious, at himself, yes, but at me, too, and he pushed me away...”

“But you _did_ speak with Bard after, and things between you are well, again?”

“They are better, yes, but he does not know everything.”

“What does he not know?”

The Elvenking sighed.  “I close my eyes, Galion, and all I see are flames...”  He rubbed his forehead with anxiety, and spoke to his Aide for a long time, pouring out his anguish and regret.

“Thranduil,”  The Aide squeezed his shoulder.  “You know I love you.  And we _both_ know that I understand, more than anyone, how this affects you, but I do not think you will feel better until you can speak of this with Bard.  You have never really talked about your burns during the War with him, have you?”

“No.  Not since the night in my tent, when you told him of it.”

“It is high time you did.  He knows the facts, but your husband needs to know your feelings about it.”      

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.  Thranduil, I can listen, and of course offer you comfort, but Bard is your husband, _Ion-nauth_ _,_ and as your bond-mate, he can heal you in ways I cannot.  In the meantime, I can make sure you get a good night’s sleep, free from dreams.  Wait here.”

Galion got up, and went to the door to send for a Healer to perform a _losta-luith,_ and within a half-hour, Thranduil was getting some true rest for the first time in weeks.

Once the Elvenking was in bed, Galion sat down and wrote a short message to Hilda, to be delivered via bird at once. 

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 9 th of June 2943 T.A.**

“ _Ada’s_ coming!” Tilda heard the bells from the West Gate, and ran into Bard’s study.  “He’s back!”

“All right, Beanie.  I’m coming.”  Bard came around his desk and let his daughter grab his hand and drag him through the Great Hall and onto the dais, where the King of the Woodland Realm was riding into the Courtyard with his Guards, and his Chief Aide.

“King Thranduil!” Bard waved.  “Welcome home!”

“King Bard,” the Elf smiled.  “I am happy to be home.  Hello, _Tithen Pen!”_ He dismounted and picked up Tilda and placed her on his hip, then gave her a kiss.  “Have you gotten bigger?”

“No, silly, you‘ve only been gone a few days!”

“Well, Ermon did say your body is better.  Perhaps you will grow up to be taller than me.”

 _“Nobody’s_ as tall as you.  Uncle Galion!” she wiggled in _Ada’s_ arms, and reached out for the Aide.  “You’re _finally_ here!” She hugged him tight.  “You’ve been gone _forever!_ Did _Ada_ tell you what happened?” 

 _“Mae g'ovannen, Tilda!”_ Galion smiled and kissed her, as he took her.  “Yes, _Ada_ told me some of it.” He smiled at her.  “You look radiant, _Tithen Pen!_   Your cheeks are so pink!”  The Aide winked at her.  “Come, child.  Let us allow your parents to have some time to themselves, and you can tell me all about your visit with Lord Celeborn.  I have not seen him and his wife for a very long time.  Did you see the _Mallorn_ trees?  Are they not the tallest trees you have ever seen?” He and the little girl chattered as they went inside.

“That was nice of him,” Bard smiled after them.

The Elvenking hugged the Bowman.  “I have missed you, _Meleth nîn_ ,” he whispered. 

“Me, too.” Bard sighed.  “I hate it, but I’ve still got a full schedule today, and…”

“Here you go!” Hilda showed up just then with a sack.  “This is to take with you.” She handed it to Bard.

“What is this, Hil?”

“You two are going to your Lodge for a couple of days.  It’s all arranged, and we sent food ahead—"

“But—"

 “…this is a change of clothes for each of you, and the Hunting Lodge has been aired out with fresh towels and linens…”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed.  “Galion knows about this?”

“He sent me a message last night.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” the King of Dale demanded.

 “Because of the way you’re acting right now.  Now Bard, your horse is waiting at the stables.  They saddled him up as soon as they heard the bells at the gate.”

“But what about the children?  What about Tilda?  She’s still—”

“Bard.” Hilda put her hand on his shoulder.  “Tilda has been hanging all over you both since this happened, and it’s time for her to get back to normal.  Tauriel, Sigrid and I have a project to keep her occupied and I think it will help her get past things.  We’ll keep all the kids busy.”

“I’m not sure, Hil...” Bard was still skeptical.

“Well, I _am.”_ Hilda gave him a look.  “You’re both going, and that’s all there is to it.”  She stood on tiptoe, and kissed each one of them.  “Now get your bloody arses out of here, and we’ll see you day after tomorrow; hopefully without that look on both of your faces.”

“What look?” Bard demanded.

Hilda put her hand on his cheek.  “You both look tired and lonely, and it’s time to fix that, love.”  She clapped her hands together.  “Now, get you gone, this instant!  Go on!”

 

The ride to the Hunting Lodge was surprisingly short.  Once they accepted their fate, they were eager to get away, and set their horses to run.  As soon as they arrived and took care of their horses, they held hands as they carried their bags inside.

“You’ve been in the saddle most of the day.”  Bard offered.  “You wash up, while I put our stuff away.”

The Elvenking stripped to the waist, then cleaned the dirt from his face and hands, while Bard made quick work of their luggage. 

“Do you realize it’s been almost a month since we’ve been alone together?  You were gone for weeks before all…that… happened, then after, we didn’t have a second to call our own and then you had to leave—  Thranduil?  Are you all right?”

The Elvenking had his hands on the windowsill, staring outside.  Bard studied his face, and saw the dark circles and haggard look, and the heavy weight on his shoulders.  His Elf looked exhausted.  And _broken_.

Bard came up behind him, put his arms around him and kissed between his shoulder blades.  “What is it, love?”

Thranduil turned around and hugged his Bowman.  “I am glad we are alone, and I do want you, but I…  Can we talk?  I just…”

Bard took his face in his hands and looked into his eyes.  “What’s wrong?” 

The Elf closed his eyes, and swallowed.  “I feel… all wrong inside, and I do not know how to get past it...” He put Bard’s hands over his heart.  “Can you help me?  Please?” The last word came out as a sob.

Bard could feel the turmoil in his husband.  “Oh, love…  Come here.” He said quietly.  “Come on.”

He led Thranduil over to the bed and helped him out of his boots and leggings, and once he got him comfortable, he put together a tray of drinks and snacks and set them by the bed.  Then he shed his clothes and crawled in beside him and took his Elf in his arms. 

“Gods, this feels so good.” He moaned.  “I’ve missed feeling you like this.”

Thranduil laid his head on Bard’s shoulder, and ran his hand through his chest hair.  “I know Tilda needed the extra security, but my skin has been aching for you.”

Bard kissed his hair.  “Can you tell me what’s troubling you?  Was it the attack, or the fight we had?  I’m sorry about that, Thranduil, I really am…”

“I know.  I am sorry for the terrible things I said, as well.  But I need to tell you something, and it is difficult for me to speak of it.”

“I understand.  What do you need from me?”

“Just to listen, and…believe me when I say, I do not say these things to make you or anyone feel worse.  I just need to tell you what happened.”

“I’ll do that.  But let’s have a drink first.” He poured out two glasses of wine and handed one over. 

Thranduil emptied his cup, then handed it back before settling down against Bard’s chest.  “I know you remember how angry I was that day...  And when we went to save the hostages, we both were struggling…”

“We both were angry love, and I was awful to you.”  Bard tightened his arms.  “But I also remember something happened just as we reached that clearing.  I could feel how terrified you were; it nearly knocked me down, it was so strong.  What happened?”

Thranduil blew out a breath.  “I...  _knew_ I was going to die.”

Bard stiffened.  “What do you mean?”

“I was terrified, because I had a vision, Bard.  Of my death, in the fire.”

The Elf paused for a few seconds, then whispered, “I saw the Dragon I had killed in Mordor, and I…saw the fire, again.   I knew I was going to be caught into the flames...  I kissed you then, because I was saying goodbye, Bard.  I knew I was not going to escape.”

“Oh, gods…” Bard whispered and began to stroke his smooth blonde hair. 

“I had to try and make things right between us because…” Thranduil’s voice broke.  “I thought of you, and the children and Legolas…. I miss my son so much, Bard, and it hurt to think I’d never see him again, but… I w-was so frightened!    I cannot face burns like that, ever again.  I just cannot, and I was just praying it would be quick, because I didn’t want to live through it…  I could not endure that, even for my family.  Not even for you.” He buried his face in his hands. “Please, forgive me…”

 “Oh, gods… no wonder you look so awful!  I can’t imagine what you must have been going through.  I’m so sorry, Thran, and I wish I could take back all those horrible things I said…”

“I know,” Thranduil wiped his eyes. “I will not lie, and say it did not make things worse, because it did, _Meleth nîn._   But we both behaved badly, and I could not allow our last words to be  full of anger.”

“I see that, now.”  He handed Thranduil another glass, this time with water. “Here. Now _talk to me!”_

The Elvenking couldn’t help but smile.  “That is what Galion said.”

“Well, he’s a smart Elf.”  Bard brushed Thranduil’s hair away from his face.  “You’ve been having nightmares, haven’t you?  I’d be surprised if you didn’t, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

The Elvenking nodded, reluctantly.  “I…  I am grateful, that I am still here, and that we are all right, but…” his lips trembled. “But I feel…far away from things, Bard.  His breathing became rapid, and he covered his eyes.  “ Half of my mind is still with that f-fire, and I-I cannot escape it!  It will not leave me, no matter how hard I try, and I do not know what to do!  I feel like I am lost in those flames and cannot get out... Please, help me!”Thranduil’s composure completely disintegrated, and began to sob.   _Gin iallon, Bard…ni nathad!  Ú-chebin estel anim!”_   Bard hugged him as he began to finally let go.  

When the Elf’s glamour fell, and his injuries were exposed, Bard quickly pulled the hair away from his face.    “It’s all right, Thranduil,” he whispered. “I’m here…”  then held him tight rubbed his back, as he murmured soothing words.

After a long while, his Elf began to calm down, he kissed his hair.  “Do you think you can replace your glamour, love?  It’ll make you feel better.  Just try.”

Thranduil managed to get his breathing under control, and took care of it.  Then he saw the tears in the Bowman’s eyes and sighed.  “I am sorry, Bard.  I do not wish to upset you—“

“Shh…. Don’t do that.  Don’t pull back inside of yourself.  You stay with me, yeah?” Bard gave the Elf an encouraging smile.  “I _want_ you to talk to me, and if it upsets me, that’s only because I love you, and it’s hard to see you hurting like this.  Hang on a minute.” Bard got out of bed, grabbed a wet cloth and a small towel, carefully wiped his husband’s face, then set the cloths aside.

Bard wracked his brains; how to pull his Elf away from this?

He took a deep breath, then eased Thranduil onto his back.  “It’s all right; I’ve got you…. Can you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Then let me help.”  He crawled on top of Thranduil and urged the Elf’s knees open and positioned himself between his legs, and gently kissed his eyes, his brow and his cheeks, then grabbed the oil.  After he quickly worked himself into hardness, he took himself in hand, and pushed the head of his cock inside his husband.  

 _“Naeg!”_ Thranduil’s eyes closed and he writhed uncomfortably underneath him.  “I am not ready, Bard…”

“Shh… Trust me, love...  You feel that?  I know it hurts, but what you feel is _real,_ do you understand? Think about how I feel inside you, Thranduil; let it push the other pain away."

The Elvenking's eyes filled, and he nodded with a grimace, and Bard held himself very still, while his Elf adjusted to the intrusion.

"We are here, right this second, so let the pain take you from the things long past.  Look into my eyes and let yourself feel _all of it, right now._  I’m _here,_ love, and I’m not going to let _anything_ haunt you anymore.   _We_ are what’s real, and all that other stuff is far, far away. Look at me, and trust me to help you...   Do you feel me?”

“Yes.” A tear escaped his eye and rolled down the side of his face and onto the mattress, as his breath caught.  “Yes.”  With a soft moan Bard moved just a tiny bit more.  “Gods, you’re so, so tight…”  He grabbed the Elf’s hands and held them over his head and stared into Thranduil’s eyes, until his husband began to relax inside. 

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly moved his hips almost all the way out and quickly oiled himself some more.  As he moved in and out of his husband, he whispered,  “I love you so much, Thranduil.  I love you, and I’m here, and I’m real, and all that matters, is that you and I are together.  That’s it, love.  Look into my eyes and let me see you!  Show me what’s inside you!  Show me everything - you’re not alone anymore, see?”

Thranduil’s sobs were silent and were so hard they shook the both of them, but his eyes never left Bard’s.  The Bowman pulled the Elf’s knees up over his shoulders, then he leaned down and began to thrust in earnest.  “That’s it, love.  Show me what hurts you, and I’ll bear it with you.  You don’t _ever_ have to do this alone, do you understand?  Just keep looking at me!”

The response was a series of whimpers and cries, first of pain, then of pleasure.  Bard gasped, and focused his energy on the stormy blue-grey of Thranduil’s eyes and searched their depths, as he moved.  “Show me, love.  Don’t try to talk, just let yourself feel it, and I’ll see it, okay?  That’s it…  Show it to me…  _Davo annin gi nathad, Meleth nîn. Davo annin  gi nestad…”_

And he saw it.  He saw it all, and it was horrifying. 

 _Oh, gods…_  

Bard knew what it was like to face and destroy a Dragon, but he’d no idea the amount of physical agony Thranduil had endured back then... 

He began to understand what had been going through Thranduil’s mind, and could feel the unimaginable depths of anguish in him, and Bard used his eyes and his body to pour out all his heart, all his love to his Elf, to ease his pain.  “I’m here…” he whispered over and over, as he thrust.  “I love you, and I’m here, right beside you.  You’ll never have to be alone again...  _Gi melin, Thranduil, a ni am_ …” 

“Bard…” his husband whispered through his tears, “Oh, _Meleth nîn_ …”

“Do you feel me?” Bard whispered,  “You do, don’t you?”

Thranduil whimpered and nodded his head.  _“Car nin.  Car nin…”_

“Think on that,” he thrust into his husband hard, “think about my hands on you, how I’m fucking you, and think about how much I love you.  You are so loved, Thranduil…”

 _“A ma!  MA!”_   The tight bonds of pain in Thranduil heart _at last_ began to loosen, and Bard could feel the Elf’s pleasure begin to rise.  He adjusted their position, to make sure his cock brushed against Thranduil’s prostate and began to pound into his husband so hard they both cried out with every movement.

“Oh, gods, that’s so good…  Touch yourself, love…” Bard panted.  _“Caro hi!_  Come with me…  I want you to come with me!”

When Thranduil reached for his own cock and began to pump it up and down, words were no longer possible.  The Lodge was filled with loud moans as each felt their own and the other’s pleasure.  Tears flowed from the Elvenkings eyes and he arched his back came with a scream, spurting stripes that almost reached his neck.  The sight of his husband coming so undone, was what sent Bard over the edge and he emptied himself inside Thranduil with a long, low moan.

Their movements continue for a long time, and they gasped and mewled through each aftershock until finally, they stopped.

 “Close your eyes now, love,” Bard smiled, as he eased Thranduil’s legs off his shoulders, “because you’re about to get kissed within an inch of your life.”  He captured the Elf’s mouth with his own, and moaned, as their tongues danced together, they buried their fingers in each other’s hair.  The kisses were hard and long and full of love and healing, and it went on for what seemed forever, and still it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough to fully express what they were to each other.

After a long while, they broke apart with a sigh.  Bard took the washcloth and towel, cleaned them both off, then gave Thranduil some more water.

“Are you hungry?  I can get us something, if you want.”

“I am hungry, but I cannot let go of you, just yet.  Can we please just lay here for a while?”

“Sure thing.”  Bard settled them back down, so they lay facing each other.  “Feel better?”

“A little,”  the Elf’s sigh was a bit ragged.  “Thank you, Bard….”

“Hey, hey…  That’s what I’m here for, to share the burdens, yeah?  I wasn’t even sure that would work, but it was the only thing I could think of.”

“It was perfect.”  Thranduil looked into his eyes.  “Do you really think it will be all right, Bard?”

“I do.  It will take some time, but to tell you the truth, I can’t think of anything I’d rather do with you, anyway.  Gods,” he grinned,  “I _love_ to fuck you…  It’s always _so intense.”_

Thranduil took Bard’s hand and kissed his palm.  “It is.” He sighed heavily.  “I do feel like a weight has begun to lift.  Galion had told me when we were at the Palace that I needed to talk about it, but only you could really help me.”

“I think he’s right, love.” The Bowman became serious, as he kissed their intertwined fingers.   “We share a _fëa_ now.  And this is what we’re supposed to do: share our burdens.   This time, it’s my turn to take care of you, so you’ll just have to endure it.”

 “I will try, _Meleth nîn_.” Thranduil chuckled, and ran his hands over the hair on Bard’s chest.  “I see you have been practicing your Sindarin.”

“Blame the girls for that.  Sigrid’s decided I’ve been lazy about it, so she and Tilda have been refusing to speak to me in Westron, so I’ll learn.” Bard shrugged.  “I hate to admit it, but it’s actually a good idea.  Bain gets irritated, but he’s catching on faster, too.”  Bard grinned and rubbed their noses together.  _“Amman?  Den serog?”_ he teased.

Thranduil’s response was to grab Bard by his shoulders, and show him _just_ how much he liked it.

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Ion-nauth –_ Son of my heart

 _Mae g'ovannen, Tilda!_ – Well met, Tilda!

 _Gin iallon, Bard…ni nathad! -_ Oh, please, Bard…help me!  

 _Ú-chebin estel anim! -_ I cannot keep hope for myself!

 _Davo annin gi nathad, Meleth nîn._ \- Let me help you, My Love.

 _Davo annin  gi nestad…_ \- Let me heal you…

 _Gi melin, Thranduil, a ni am_ … - I love you Thranduil, and I am here…

 _Car nin…car nin –_ I do…I do

 _Caro hi! –_ Do it now!

 _Amman?  Den serog?_ – Why? Do you like it?”

 

**NOTES:**

[1] From “What Makes a King,” CH 13:  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/25232985>

 

[2] From “And Winter Came,” CH 36:  “Percy stood up straight and looked at the two Kings, with an agitated look.  ‘I would appreciate it, if the people in this family would stop trying to die on us; Hilda and I are getting way too old for this shit.’  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026709/chapters/31753875>

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you’re wondering why you are meeting so many Elves with the rank of Lieutenant or higher, that is because every Guardian of the Woodland Realm had to have that rank to even qualify for this Elite branch of Thranduil’s military.   In addition to their other duties, it is the Guardians who are charged with protecting Royalty.


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Thranduil’s mini-vacay continues, Rhian and Evan have an important conversation.  Haldir returns from his tour at the fences, to some interesting news…
> 
> …and letters from Dale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've created a Pinterest Board called "Two Thrones Series on AO3" with pictures of many of the Characters in this series as I have imagined them.  Click on each picture to read a short bio I made, for each of them.   Enjoy, and please forgive me for not being as adept on Pinterest as I probably could be, but I still haven’t gotten the hang of it…  *wince*  https://www.pinterest.com/wendyw0051/two-thrones-series-on-ao3/
> 
>  

“Without you in my arms, I feel an emptiness in my soul. I find myself searching the crowds for your face - I know it’s an impossibility, but I cannot help myself.”

** \- Nicholas Sparks, Message in a Bottle **

**Bard’s Hunting Lodge, 10 th of June 2943 T.A.**

After breakfast, Bard was feeling a bit restless.   “You know I love laying around naked with you, but I’d like to stretch my legs for a bit.  What do you say we go down to the river and go swimming?”

“I would like that.  It looks like it will rain later, so we should go now.”

They grabbed some towels and soaps and walked barefoot through the trees, where they shed their leggings and spent the next hour wading naked in the cool water and splashing each other.  Then they settled down and helped each other wash and shampoo their hair. 

“Mmm…” Bard sighed, as Thranduil worked the lather into his thick curls, and massaged his scalp and the back of his neck.  “You know, I’m so used to being stiff on my right shoulder, I forget that it’s really not supposed to hurt.”

“My poor Bowman,” Thranduil made a face and rubbed his shoulders and upper back.  “Now, rinse off.”

Bard ducked below the water a few times, and came back up sputtering and shaking the water out of his hair.  “I miss the bathing pool in your Palace.  This is nice, too, but the water’s too cold to relax and lounge in it. Now, come here, you.”  Bard picked up the soap and shampoo and began to wash his husband.  “Your turn.”

Thranduil closed his eyes and hummed, as enjoyed his husband’s ministrations.  “I always enjoy it when you wash my hair…”

Bard leaned Thranduil’s head back and kissed him.  “Me, too.  I love any excuse to put my hands on you.”

The Elvenking smiled, eyes still closed. “I would suggest we make love in the grass, but I think that would upset our Guard’s sensibilities.”

“It would, indeed.” Bard chuckled.  “They might fall out of the trees, and that’d be awkward.  I don’t mind bathing in front of them, but I’m not eager to let them see my ‘Little Bowman’ in all his glory…”

Thranduil gave a wicked laugh. “It _is_ rather glorious, Bard.”

“Stop; you’re making me blush.”  Bard moved around to face him, then with a smile, he pushed the Elvenking backwards and dunked him under the water to rinse him off.  As Thranduil was wiping the water out of his eyes, the Bowman then took off for the river bank and grabbed the towels.

“Catch me if you can, Elf!” 

Thranduil let out a whoop and chased his husband as he dashed around the trees.  Finally, he caught up to him, grabbed him around the waist and tried wrestled him to the ground, but it wasn’t easy because they were both laughing so hard.  By the time he finally managed to pin Bard down, with his hands over his head, they were covered in dirt and mud.

“We’re all filthy.” Bard laughed. 

“So, we are.  I find it rather exciting.”  Thranduil laughed down at him, and kissed him several times.  “We also ruined the towels.  How are we supposed to dry off?”

“Let me up, and we’ll clean up again, then head back inside.” Bard reached up and captured his mouth in another kiss.  “We don’t have to dress until we leave tomorrow, you know.”

After they washed again, they rinsed out their muddy towels, and hung them over the railing on the porch to dry, then went inside to spend the rest of the day enjoying their privacy. 

 

That evening after dinner, they lay in bed and enjoyed each other’s warmth, as they listened to the rain outside.  “Do you know, I have never have bothered by the flames in the fireplace; is that not strange?”

“I wouldn’t question it.”  Bard kissed his shoulder.  “We’d have real problems if you were.”

“Are _you_ all right, Bard?  You suffered, as well.”

“I’ve had moments, I admit that, but this helped me, too.” He shrugged.  “Still, I had an easier time, plus I had the children with me.”

“Bard, can we find time to take the family back to my Palace, soon?  I need to help Bain pick out a new horse, plus I’ve never had a chance to ride with you in my forest.”

“That’s a good idea, love.  Tell you what: as soon as the Harad children leave with their King, we’ll all go for a week or so.”

“I would like that.”  He sighed.  “I have barely seen our children, since before all this happened.”

“Tilda was tearing after Darryn the other day.  I still can’t believe how bouncy she is!”

“I still cannot believe she is well!  Does she still sleep in our bed?”

“Yes, but I think Hilda’s going to put a stop to that.  Sigrid was telling me how they’re changing around Rhian’s house to help her get over things, so I think they’ll be doing the same thing with the girls’ room.   Maybe once that’s done, our Little Bean will feel better and want Charlotte again.”

“I hope so.”  Thranduil ran his hand up and down Bard’s forearms.  “It is strange to see her without her doll.   And Sigrid is well?”

“She’s determined to bounce back.  She’s spent a lot of time talking with Tauriel, and I think all this has brought them even closer.”

“Really?”

“Well, it makes sense, if you think about it.  Tauriel’s a soldier, and has experience with violence.  It’s only natural that she and Bain would ask how she copes with the things she’s said and done.  From what I’ve seen, Tauriel is getting a lot out of it, too.  They see her as a lot more than a protector, now, and she feels loved for herself.”

“That… makes sense.”  Thranduil smiled.  “I like that.  I hope she does not feel hurt when we take the children to the Palace.”

“Can’t be helped.  Why don’t you see if she wants to spend some time in the Mountain, while we’re gone?”

“I will do that.”  Thranduil snuggled into his husband.  “What have the children been doing, while I was gone?”

“Well, the girls have watched baby Darryn for a few days, while they get Ben’s house put back together, and you know he tends to brighten the place up.  Tauriel took the kids to see Thangon and Beriel’s puppies right before you got home.  They didn’t want to go…”

“Why not?”

Bard sighed.  “They’re still a bit skittish about leaving the Castle.  That will take a while, I think, but Hilda made them go, and they were in a better mood when they came back.”

“Tilda did not ask for a puppy?”  Thranduil mused. 

“Farien’s kittens are due this week, so I’m glad she didn’t, but I noticed that, too.  It’s not like her.  At any rate, there’s just no room for another huge dog in that Corridor.”

“Our _Tithen Pen_ needs time to mourn Esta.  How is Bain?”

“Rhys and Tauriel aren’t going to let him stay down for long.  A new horse will get him out and about, soon enough.”

“How is Tilda’s new Guard, working out?  Feren has a great deal of confidence in her, but that does not mean our family will feel comfortable with her.”

“Oh, she’s great.  Nualë knows she’s replacing Meldon, and tries to be sensitive about it.  She spent a couple of evenings with us, so the kids could get to know her, and so far, so good.  The Little Bean Tilda likes having a female guard, though she’s always adored Ruvyn, and vice-versa.  Between the two of them, I think she’ll be back to her old sassy self, soon enough.”

“That is a relief.” Thranduil sat up and stretched, then reached for the plate of fruit and cheese and offered his husband a snack.  They nibbled and drank for a while, then settled back down and, after several kisses, they settled down for the night.

“Bard?”

“What, love?”

“I know we planned to stay until tomorrow afternoon, but could we return earlier?  I miss the children.”

“Sounds good to me.  On one condition.”

“What is that?”

“Tomorrow morning, you help me do that thingy with the trees, again.”

“What ‘thingy?’”

“You know: when you helped me ‘hear’ them.”  Bard grinned.  “That was great!”

Thranduil smiled, sleepily.  “On one condition, _Meleth nîn_.”

“Yes?”

“You watch your tongue.” He jabbed his Bowman.  “The trees do not like your foul language.”

“It’s a deal.” He heard Bard’s soft chuckle, and felt a kiss on the side of his neck. “Good night, love.”

 

***************

**City of Dale, 11 th of June 2943 T.A.**

The windows and doors at Old Ben’s house had  been repaired and Hannah, Sigrid and Hilda came a few days ago, to help Rhian finally get the house in order. 

“That was a great idea to change things around, Hannah.” Rhian told her gratefully. “It helps a lot.”

It was true.  Hannah had suggested painting the walls a different, brighter color, and the new curtains and furniture were of a different style, which made it even easier to forget the violence which took place weeks ago.  The house looked cheerful and welcoming, and ready to be lived in, again.

“I’m glad.” Hannah went over and put her arm around Sigrid’s shoulders.  “How are you doing, love?  Are you all right?”

“I…  will be.” Sigrid smiled, and gave her a determined look.  “I agree with Rhian: those monsters don’t get any more of my life than they must.”

“That’s right,” Rhian came over and put her arm through hers.  “We’ll get there.”

“We all will.”  Hilda added, with determination.

“How is Tilda?”  Hannah asked her.

Hilda sighed.  “Losing Esta broke her heart, so I don’t think she’ll be coming around for quite a while, no matter how different it looks.  She only leaves the Great Hall when we make her, but I’m hoping that will get better.”

“Oh, the poor dear…”  Hannah sighed.  “Well, maybe you could do the same thing to your room, as we’re doing here, Sigrid?  Maybe you could your room and even switch the beds around; what do you think?”

“I’ll come and help,” Rhian offered.  “Tilda could help paint, and we could work on some different bedspreads…”

“You know, that just might be the thing!” Hilda agreed with a grin.  “Let’s do it!

As the women put the finishing touches on Ben and Rhian’s house, they discussed the idea at length, and all agreed that Tilda should help decide on the new décor as much as possible.

 

It was a warm, sunny afternoon, so Rhian put Darryn down for a nap in his playpen, and went to sit in the garden.  Her eyes gravitated toward the flower bed with the bulbs Daeron sent her, last fall.  Now the greenery was peeking through the soil, and would probably bloom within another month. 

Rhian found herself eagerly looking forward to seeing the flowers.  Of course, they were Irises; they had to be!  Last summer, after that man was arrested in the Market, she ran home, full of anxiety, and Daeron had come, and settled her down, by talking to her about their favorite flower…. 1

During that long, terrible night, locked in the back of the wagon, she thought about Darryn, of course, and about Da, and she will never forget how brave Evan was, or how he risked his life for her and her son.  She also thought about that afternoon in the Garden, with Daeron.

Rhian’s time in captivity had clarified what was in her heart:  As wonderful as Evan was, she simply didn’t love him.  There was no reason not to, but those feelings just weren’t there, and she felt terrible about it.  How could she do this to someone who saved her son’s life?

As if by magic, a deep male voice broke her out of her reverie. 

“Hello, Rhian.”

She turned with a gasp.  Evan was limping, his arm was in a sling, but he was smiling down at her, as he lean on his cane.

“Evan!” She jumped up and ran over to him.  “Oh, are you in pain?  Sit down, please!”  She helped him to the bench.  “Can I get you anything?  Wait here!”  She quickly ran into the house and came back with a carafe of wine and two glasses on a tray, and a pillow, which she put behind his back.  “Are you comfortable?”

“I’m doing fine.”  He grinned, and took a glass.  “Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do.  We owe you our lives, you know.”

“Where is Darryn?  How is he?”

“Sleeping in his playpen in the living room.  He’s fine, to be honest; _I’m_ the one with the problem, though I think switching things around makes a difference.” She smiled at him, shyly.  “I know I’ve said it a dozen times, but thank you, so much, Evan.  If it weren’t for you...”

“You don’t need to keep thanking me, Rhian.  I’d never want anything to happen to either one of you.” 

“I know…”

They both stared down at their drinks for several minutes in silence, then they both began to talk at once.

“Ev-–“

“RHian—“

Both of them chuckled nervously, until Evan said, “Ladies first.  You go.”

Rhian began to fumble with the edge of her shawl nervously.  “I’m so glad you and I got to be such friends, Evan, and I’ve had a wonderful time.  You’re sweet and kind and brave and…”

“But you don’t love me.” He said matter-of-factly, his face was unreadable.

“I…   I _want_ to tell you what you want to hear, I really do.  And I hate that…   I mean, you’re the last person in the world I’d ever want to disappoint, because you really are the best-–“

“Rhian, that’s not something you can help.”  Evan spoke gently.  “And I could never be disappointed with you.”

Her eyes filled with tears.  “But I can’t stand the idea of hurting you!  Not after you nearly died…  Oh, gods…  what is wrong with me?  Maybe I’m so messed up I’ll never be able to love anyone!”

Evan turned toward her and put his fingers under her chin.  “It’s is my turn to talk, if you would let me.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.   Go ahead.” She took a deep breath and steeled herself.  Whatever she had coming, she would bear, to spare him any guilt.  This was her fault, and she owed him that much.

“Rhian, I wish you had known my parents.  I know I’ve told you dozens of stories about them, but I can’t begin to tell you how wonderful it was to grow up and watch what two people who are truly in love are like.  I suppose the best example I can think of now, are Lord Bard and Lord Thranduil.  Theirs is not a marriage of politics or duty, is it?  They adore and respect each other.”

“I know.  It’s like they shine brighter when the other one is in the room.  I think Da and Hannah are the same.”

“Right.  That’s what it was like with my Momma and Papa!  I was a fool, and took it for granted that everyone else grew up with that.   Of course, when I got older, I learned not everyone is that lucky.”   He smiled at her, as he shook his head.  “I didn’t realize what a rare gift I had been given, Rhian, and I promised myself that when I married and had children – and I want _tons_ _of children,_ mind you – I’d _never_ settle for anything less than what my parents had.  As much as I want a family, Rhian, I’d rather go without than settle.”

“Oh, Evan…” she closed her eyes, and felt utterly wretched.  “I’m so sorry, but I’m just not the girl for you.” She sniffed, and more tears fell.  “I’m not good enough for somebody like you.”

“Don’t ever, _ever_ think that!  Come on, now.”  Evan was quick to reach into his pocket and grab his handkerchief, and began to dab her eyes.   “I realized something from all this, too.  You like me a lot and I like you, but I don’t think it would work out.  Yes, I find you utterly beautiful and you have all the same qualities you say you admire about me.  But,” he sighed, and smoothed her hair away from her brow, “that ‘spark’ is not there, for me, either.  I want _real passion_ with the woman I marry, and I don’t see that happening between us.”

“I don’t know if I’m capable of that kind of passion…”  Rhian swallowed.  “Not after what Garth put me through.  Maybe I’m better off just staying single.”

“Oh, ho ho!”  Evan laughed.  “That’s not true at all!  Not at all!  You are full of passion for what you believe in, and for your family and your friends, including me!  You and I care about each other, but if we settled for that, it would turn into a dull, complacent existence, and we’d end up hating each other for it.”

He lifted her chin gently and smiled down at her.  “And as your friend, I _will not_ let you consider marrying me, or _anyone_ because you think you owe them something.  You will marry again one day, Rhian, daughter of Ben, but promise me something, before you do.”

“What?” She hiccupped, and took the kerchief from him to wipe her eyes.

 “You must promise me that when you do marry, it’s because you burn for him.  Because you know deep in your bones that you can’t live without him.   You deserve it.”

“You really think I can?”

“I do.  And when you marry, I will shake his hand, and kiss your cheek and wish you both every happiness.  Hopefully, you will do the same for me.”

“O-Okay.” She sniffed, and blew her nose.

He turned back and together they looked at the still-awakening flower garden, then he nudged her with his shoulder.  “You okay?”

“I think so.” She sniffed.  “Are you sure you’re not upset with me?”

“Who me?  I’m fine.  You’re not the only pretty girl in Dale, you know,” he grinned playfully.  “In fact, now that I’m back ‘on the Market shelves,’ the women will be lined up for miles, waiting to feed me grapes, and rub my feet.”

Rhian laughed, in spite of herself.  “Well, if any of them doesn’t treat you right, they’ll have to answer to me!  I’ll bet you’ll be married by next year.  In fact, I’ve noticed the way Tilda’s teacher looks at you.  She likes you, I think.”

“You mean Eryn?” he smiled.  “Hmmm…  She’s really pretty, and smart, too.  Now, _she_ could rub my feet…   What?”

“You’re incorrigible!” She smacked him on his good arm, then sighed.  “Seriously, I think that’s when I first realized I wasn’t in love with you.  I saw her look at you a while back, and I didn’t feel threatened or possessive at all.  You should go talk to her.”

“Oh, I get it now…” He jostled her shoulder.  “You just want me out of the way to make room for all your other suitors, yeah?  Sneaky!”

“Evan!” she laughed. “I don’t think I’ll ever have suitors.  Not dozens of them, like you say.” She sighed.  “I can’t think that far ahead.”

Evan saw her eyes repeatedly travel toward the flower bed to the left.  “I think your heart knows exactly what it wants, Rhian.” He smiled at her.  “It’s just waiting for your head to catch up.  I’ll bet _you’ll_ be the one married by this time, next year.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It’ll come to you,” he winked at her cryptically.  “You know what they say, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’”

“I don’t understa –“ 

“Mama! Mam!  Mamamama!”   Inside the house, Darryn begin to shout from his playpen.

  “Oops!  There he goes…”  Evan stood up, and Rhian handed him his cane.  “Do you want to come in?”

“Mmmm…  Another time, maybe.”

She couldn’t help but get choked up a little.  “I’m sorry if I hurt you Evan.  I never meant to lead you on.  I really didn’t.”

“I know that.” he smiled down at her. 

“I hope you know you can come and see Darryn anytime.”

“That’s good, because I think the world of that little guy.” He took her hand.  “I’m glad I got to know you, Rhian, and I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. No regrets, right?” He lifted her chin to make her look into his eyes. “Right?”

Rhian sighed and gave him a brave smile.  “Right.  No regrets.”

 He sighed, and said sincerely, “Rhian, I wish you every happiness, which, if I’m guessing right, should be headed your way sooner than you think.  All you need to do, is be brave enough to see it.”

Evan gave her a peck on the cheek, he turned and began to whistle, as he took his cane, walked down the stone path around the side of the house, and to the street.

Rhian watched him go, with a sigh, and went to tend to her son.

 

A few days later, she and Ben were sitting outside, watch Darryn walk around the stone paths, and talk to the bushes.  She looked over at Daeron’s flower bed, and saw a small splash of purple amongst the green blades.  She got up and walked over, then, in impulse, grabbed her small knife and cut the bud from it’s stem, and fingered it thoughtfully.

The bulbs Daeron had sent were her favorite flower, in her favorite color.  Then she laughed.  Of course, it was; they were his favorite, too!

 

***************

**Lothlórien, 12 th of June 2943 T.A**

Two days ago, a party from Harad had arrived, and after offering the Lord and Lady proof of their identity and intentions, the homesick children were joyously returned to their countrymen (and some kinsmen, who had come along to see their little ones, and ensure their well-being), were waved off toward home this morning. 

The Elves, who had not had children in their midst for many centuries, were sad to see them go, and the forest floor was was strangely quiet and empty.  Yet they could not help but be happy for those families who would once again be reunited, and all would earnestly pray for their well-being. 

This evening, Daeron was sitting on the balcony of Haldir’s house, enjoying some wine with Elion, his Second-in-Command, who had asked to meet with him regarding some rather important, though personal, news.

“I am fairly sure why you are here, Lieutenant,” Daeron smiled, as he poured him another glass.  “It is hardly a secret that you and Airen have been seeing each other, and I am happy for you both.  I like her very much.”

Elion grinned.  “She is wonderful, is she not?”

“Have you asked for her hand, yet?”

“No.  That is why I am here, _Mellon_.  Obviously, one of us is going to have to relocate, on a permanent basis…”

“Who are Airen’s parents?  Do they live here?”

“They both work in the Libraries, and Airen is very close to them.”

“Where do the two of you plan to live?”

“Airen has expressed a desire to come home with me to the Woodland Realm, if the Lord and Lady would allow it, and if King Thranduil approves, of course.   She loves her home here, but we both agree that the greater need to serve is in the North.  I have enjoyed living in such a beautiful place, and I will miss the songs of the trees here, but there is not much to do at the fences, besides watch and wait.  That is a compliment to the Wardens to be sure, but…”

“…you’re finding it a bit dull?” Daeron asked with a grin.

“Yes,” Elion finally admitted.  “I have been used to duties that are… rigorous, and I miss that sense of immediacy and satisfaction.  Airen looks forward to the challenges.”

“I have no doubt that novelty will wear off, soon enough.” Daeron said wryly.  “She has yet to encounter the spiders that plague our land.  But it is nice to see that others appreciate how formidable a task we have.” He grinned at Elion.  “I like Airen, a great deal.  I remember when she helped us clean off the statue of Queen Mírelen when we left the Realm.  She was a good friend, and sought me out when I was having a difficult time here.  I think there were even speculations of a romance between us, but I hope you do not think that is true.”

“I do not.  I know your affections lie elsewhere, and I am only glad that Airen was a friend when you needed it.  We are both fond of you.”

Daeron raised his glass to toast.  “If my approval means anything, you have it.  I will write a letter to Lord Thranduil recommending her transfer.  The only thing missing is Airen’s consent to marry you.  Do you not think it is time to ask her?” he smirked.

“It is,” Elion laughed.  “I owe you a great deal, _Mellon_.”

“Just name your firstborn after me, and we shall call it even, yes?”  Daeron chuckled, then drank his wine.  “Now,” he took Elion’s glass, “go and propose to your beautiful Elleth, before the day is done.”

Elion stood up and saluted.  “Thank you, Lieutenant.”  Then he left to seek out his future wife.

 

The Guardian was still on the balcony, when Haldir came into the _talon_ , and found him in a pensive mood.  “Are you well, Daeron?” he asked.

“I am…  better than I have been in a long, long time.” He smiled up at the Marchwarden.  “Welcome home from the fences.”

“I am glad to be here.”  Haldir smirked.  “An advantage to being a Marchwarden is scheduling myself to be here for the Vigil of _Tarnin Austa._  You have much to look forward to, _Mellon;_ our Summer Solstice celebrations are famous.”

“So I hear. How was your tour?”

“Only a small skirmish two weeks ago, which was easily dispatched.  Was that Elion I passed just now?”

“It was.  Has Airen spoken to you, yet?”

“She has not.” 

“I am afraid you may lose one of your Wardens.”

“Oh, that.  So Airen has agreed to marry Elion?”

“You knew?”

“I make it my business to know.” Haldir smiled.  “You have been busy in the Healing Halls to see much of it, but it is an open secret to everyone else.”

“She has expressed a desire to come home with us.  Do you object to this?”

“Daeron, I am the last person alive who would stand in the way of love.  If they are fortunate enough to find each other, then I will give them all the support I can.”  The Marchwarden then studied his friend, closely.  “You seem… different, since I left.  What has happened?”

“A miracle.   Several of them, to be precise.”  The Lieutenant went on to explain about the session with Galadriel’s mirror and Celeborn’s role in helping Thranduil and Tilda.

“That is remarkable, _Mellon_ , though I am not surprised.  Lord Celeborn has always been fond of Thranduil since he was small, and terrorized the Golden Wood, when King Oropher brought him.  He was saddened when the Queen was killed, and rejoiced when he remarried.  Lady Galadriel had been much amused with the letters from their youngest.”

“There is more.” Daeron swallowed and blew out a breath.  

Haldir searched his face.  “Has something happened?”

“Yes.  Well, _not yet,_ but the Lady has given me reason to hope that Rhian’s feelings have changed towards me.”

“That is wonderful news!  Wait here,” Haldir dashed into the kitchen and grabbed another bottle of wine.  _“We_ are going to celebrate.”

“Is that not a bit premature?  It has not happened, yet!”

“Nonsense.  Galadriel would never trifle with something like that.  Trust me, _Mellon_ :  If the Lady tells you something is going to happen, it _will.”_   He filled Daeron’s glass to the brim.  “It is good you do not have a shift tomorrow.” He laughed.  “Now, drink up and tell me what happened.”

After Daeron recounted the events of that night, he said, “It was not much, really, but she allowed me to see her, and little Darryn in her mirror and then told me to be at peace.  Rhian’s heart will find me.”

“So,” Haldir asked, “what do you do now?”

“I have no idea!”  Daeron shook his head.  “What would you do?”

Haldir sat back and propped his legs up on the low table.  “I would remain patient, _Mellon_ , and let her come to you.  If she does not write to you and tell you how she feels, then stick with your original plan.  Wait until you see her face-to-face, then tell her everything. 

“It is going to be a very long summer, Haldir.”  Daeron moaned in frustration.  “I am aching to see her.  I ache to see them both!”

“A beautiful agony, yes?”  Haldir laughed, and refilled their cups. “Now, drink up,” he ordered, “you have even more reason to celebrate, _Mellon_ _nîn_.”  He pulled a packet of sealed letters out of his inside pockets.  “These came today for you!”

 

***************

**LETTERS FROM DALE**

 

 **From Thranduil to Celeborn:**  

> _Suilad, Ettā:_
> 
> _At the risk of sounding redundant, I must, **must** thank you once again for my life, and the life of my family.  I must warn you, I plan to repeat this for as long as I live, but you have given me more time with my loved ones, and you have restored our little Tithen Pen, and added years to her life, with is indeed precious gift._
> 
> _In the short time I have had so far, with my new family, I have learned much about the ways of love, Ettā, and I am the better for it.  I am truly ashamed to think that I once thought the race of Men perhaps slightly inferior!  I am sure you are not surprised by this, as too many Elves are rather strident in this opinion.  But I am happy to admit my mistake and, as my daughter Sigrid puts it, “take my medicine.”_
> 
> _Our Tilda speaks of you often, and I feel it is my duty to inform you, that you and Galadriel are now considered “Aunt” and “Uncle,” in much the same way she thinks of our Galion.  I hope you find this as pleasing as my Aide does._
> 
> _Bard and I have had some struggles, but (well, we have all had difficult moments since the attack), Galion and Hilda shipped us off for a couple of days alone, and I have managed to shake off much of the horrors of the fire.  _
> 
> _Our children are well on their way back.  Tilda struggles a bit with the memories, but the wisdom you shared with her during your visit helps her perspective a great deal.  And she is processing all this much better than she had in the Battle of the Five Armies._
> 
> _I must close now, Ettā.  Please, please give your beloved Lady Wife my deepest affection and I look forward to seeing you in person as soon as it can be arranged._
> 
> _With highest regards,_
> 
> _Thranduil_

_***************_

**To Galadriel and Celeborn from Tilda:**

> _Deer Gallerdil and Kelebornd:_
> 
> _How are you.  I am good.  I am very, very very good!  I can run and play, and I have lots of fun.  Ada says my cheeks are pink.  The Heelers told Da that I didnt grow hardly at all wen I was sick, so he says I will grow again._
> 
> _Ada went home to bury Meldin.  We were all sad.  A couple others died too and I was very sad._
> 
> _We buried Esta.  Cook gave her a bone to chew when she’s with Mam.  Uncle Dane make a pretty stone for her, and Uncle Gallion put a seat neer it, so I tell Esta things to tell Mam.  I still miss her a lot.  _
> 
> _We changed rooms.  It helps at night, when I miss Esta.  And guess what.  Tarriel’s cat, Farien had six kittns yesterday!  She still thinks it’s Tarriels room, so she forgot, and had them under my bed!  Ada says I have to leeve them alone, or Farien will get mad and scratch me._
> 
> _Our other dog Thangon had 8 puppies.  Well he dident really.  His wife Beriel did.  But she lives with Bane’s friend and we visit._
> 
> _How are you.  I wish I could see you, Gallerdil.  And Darron.  I miss him.  Can you come visit?_
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Tilda_

 

***************

 

**To Galadriel and Celeborn from Bard:**

> _To the esteemed and miraculous Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood:_
> 
> _How does one say “thank you” for giving me back my life?  Indeed, do not doubt you have done this, because my husband is my life, and so are my beloved children, and if I were to lose any of them, I would be as a shell, going through the motions of duty, for the rest of my days. _
> 
> _We now have a happy, increasingly-healthy child, and I wish you could see how my husband’s eyes shine to see it._
> 
> _When Tilda first became ill, she had a pronounced weakness on her left side, and with special exercises and rest, it was a bit better, but would show when she became overtaxed. She also had short-term memory loss, and it would frustrate her terribly, and become upset._
> 
> _Since that terrible night, our little girl has hardly been still, and her Ada, who used to spend a great deal of time keeping her from getting tired out, now enjoys trying to keep up with her._
> 
> _She makes a point to never walk anywhere she can run, and Ermon, her Healer (filling in for Daeron, of course) encourages it.    He has prescribed a natural course of activities, so Thranduil takes her to special play yards we have here in Dale, and climbs, swings, jumps and is learning to skip rope with her friends, and she is doing very well._
> 
> _Thank you again, as I will thank you thousands of times._
> 
> _With my best regards,_
> 
> _Bard, son of Brand_
> 
> _King of Dale_

 

***************

**To Daeron from Tilda:**

> _Deer Darron._
> 
> _Thank you for helping lady Gallerdil make me better.  I am not sick anymore.  I run, and climb on the bars at the park.  Alis and made up a game.  Unkle Dane send us chalk, and we draw stuff on the Cortyard and hop on them.  Even on one foot!  I can do that now._
> 
> _Miss Eryn says I can remember things better, and Ada and I do things that he says helps my “cordinayshun.”  Ermon said to do it, and he says I will be strong real soon._
> 
> _I miss you.  I drew a pickshure of me playing on the swings.  That is Ada pushing me._
> 
> _I miss Esta.  She was my best friend, and I cry sometimes.  I even put Charlot away for a bit, but Auntee Hil and unkle Galion told me it wasnt her fault, and I should talk to her.  So I do.  I tell her all the stuff I used to tell Esta and it is better._
> 
> _Unkle Galion takes me to visit where we put Esta and I talk to her too.  I think Mam likes her._
> 
> _I love you.  Come back soon._
> 
> _Tilda_

*******************

**To Daeron from Rhian:**

> _Hello, Daeron, Mellon nîn (Turamarth told me what that means):_
> 
> _I know you’ve heard we’ve been through a bad time, and trust me – it was!  Oh, I wish you’d been there, but believe me when I tell you we’re all going to be fine.  Several people lost their lives, and Da says we must go on the way they would want, or it would be a waste of their sacrifice.  He’s right. _
> 
> _We are back in our house, and you’ll be proud of me.  I still think of that terrible day, but I love my house and the gardens and will not allow anyone to ruin it for me.  You’ll be happy to know that my flower beds, your flower beds are fine (thank Ruvyn for that – he didn’t let the bandits trample them too badly!)._
> 
> _Daeron, so much of my life has been spent living inside my imagination, just to put distance between me and a reality that was hardly bearable.  Then in a matter of weeks, I lost everything – my home, my husband, my father and all that had been familiar, and I needed to put even more distance between myself and anything that could make me feel anything other than the grey veil of numbness I was hiding in._
> 
> _Hiding… that’s a good word for it, right?_
> 
> _But in losing everything, I gained everything too!_
> 
> _I realized I could rebuild myself, and my life, to the way I wanted!  And I did!  I really did!  And I know it sounds arrogant, but I am proud of myself.  Why not?  I worked hard to make all the things I dreamed of a reality, so there would be no reason to hide anymore.  I have a beautiful, son, who helped me understand what love can mean.  I have a true father, who shows me the same.  And I have friends.  Honest, loving friends who are precious to me.  _
> 
> _Recently, Evan and I had a long talk, and while he is a dear man, he’s not the one for me, nor am I the one for him, and we parted as friends.  I’m glad I spent time with him, because I learned that I do want to marry again, someday, but I don’t want to settle for just a way out, or to just be comfortable.  I want a deep, true, ardent kind of love, but if I never have that, then I think I will be content alone. _
> 
> _I have enclosed in this envelope the very first buds from the bulbs you gave me._
> 
> _I feel like it is me, in a way, beginning to really bloom, and ready to shine in the sun.  I admit when I saw the purple color of this Iris, I cried, because it made me miss you more than I ever thought possible._
> 
> _Please accept this gift, Daeron, and know that when I sit in my Garden and look at these flowers, it makes me feel like you’re not so far away, and that the time will pass quickly._
> 
> _And when you look at this, please think kindly on a woman and a little boy who are very anxious to see you again._
> 
> _With much affection,_
> 
> _Rhian_

 

**ENDNOTES:**

[1]  From “An Invincible Summer” CH 12:   <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/34011417>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Guardians of the Woodland Realm are the primary Special Operations force made up of the Kingdom’s most talented soldiers.  Any Elf must have achieved the rank of Lieutenant, before being considered for this branch of the military, which is why you see so many of the Elves being addressed as such.  Only Guardians are permitted to protect the Royal Family, both in Dale and in the Woodland Realm. 


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys return home from the Lodge, and slay a “monster…”
> 
> Thranduil helps Dale celebrate Tarnin Austa - Summer Solstice - but this is no ordinary Summer Solstice, kids.  The stars are aligned like this only once every thousand years, and the skies will be perfectly clear, and on such a night, the Ancient legends say that remarkable things can happen…
> 
> These legends prove to be true, especially for a young woman of Dale, when the stars help her finally understand what's truly in her heart...

 

 

“I’ve learned that waiting is the most difficult bit, and I want to get used to the feeling, knowing that you’re with me, even when you’re not by my side.”

** ― Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes **

 

 

 

**City of Dale, 11 th of June 2943 T.A.**

The family had just finished their midday meal when the bells sounded from the West Gate. 

“They’re back!”  Tilda put down her spoon, as Galion pulled her chair back, so she could get down, and they all rushed through the Great Hall to meet the returning Kings.

“You look a lot better, _Ada_.” Bain said.

 “Well, thank you, _Ionneg_ ; I was not aware I looked so terrible.” The Elvenking smirked.

“Come on, let me through…”  Hilda came through the small crowd surrounding them, and looked both King’s over.  “Yep.  Much better.” She kissed them both.  “You don’t look ragged, anymore.”

“That bad, huh?” Bard laughed. 

“Hideous.” She hugged him.  After the Harad King comes, Percy and I are going to go back to that Lodge and have a real vacation.”

“Sure thing, Hil.  We were thinking of taking the family to the Palace next month, so why don’t you go then?”

“Really?”  Bain asked hopefully.  

“Yes,” Thranduil said, to the boy.  “It will be good for us, and we need to purchase another horse for you.”

Bain became quieter. “I miss _Bregolas_ a lot, but…”

“I know, _Ion.”_ the Elvenking put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “I _do_ know.”

“Did you get some rest?” Sigrid kissed both their cheeks.

“We did, _Iellig._ How are you?”

“I’m good, honest.”

“I am glad.” He kissed her brow, then turned and gave Tauriel a hug.  _“Ci maer, Gwinïg?”_

_“Mae g'ovannen, Ada! Ni maer, a gin?”_

He smiled down at her.  _“Ai, ni maer eithro.”_

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m good, too?”  Tilda became impatient. 

“Of course.” The Elvenking took her hand and kissed it.  “ _Ci maer, Tithen Pen?”_

 _“Ni maer, Ada!”_ she replied, with a proud grin.

“Very good!  I am told you and Sigrid help Da with his Sindarin.  How is that going?”

“Ugh.” Tilda rolled her eyes.  “He’s  _sooooo_ slow and he doesn’t say the words right.”

Sigrid giggles.  “It’s true.”

“Hey!” Bard made a face.

The girls grabbed the Kings’ hands, and dragged them back toward their living quarters.  “Come and see what we did!”  Tilda said with a grin. 

“Uh oh…  Should we be worried?” 

“Not at all, Bard.”  Tauriel walked with them.  “Sigrid was saying they changed some things in Ben and Rhian’s house to… help get over things…”

“…so, I had this idea…” Sigrid began, “and—“

“…we switched rooms!” Tilda finished.  “Lookee!”

They were led to the room on the right side of the Corridor, just before the doors to the King’s bedchamber, and saw that Sigrid and Tilda had indeed moved across the hall, to occupy Tauriel’s former room.  The beds were neatly arranged, and made, and there were new spreads, and all of Tilda’s toys, including Charlotte, were resting comfortably on her pillow.

“I told Charlotte I was sorry, and she isn’t mad at me for not playing with her, and now she sleeps with me, again.” Tilda said, proudly.

“I am glad, _Tithen Pen!”_   Thranduil patted her head. “Tauriel?  Are you comfortable as well?”

“I am,” the Elleth assured him.  “I think Farien is unhappy, but she will get used to it.”

“She’s always cranky when she’s pregnant.” Bain rolled his eyes.

“Can’t say I blame her.”  Bard agreed.  “Come on, you lot.  Let’s get our gear put away and you can tell _Ada_ about Thangon’s puppies.

 

***************

**City of Dale, 13th of June 2943 T.A.**

Two nights after their return from the Hunting Lodge, Thranduil’s eyes flew open, as Tilda came screeching into their room and scrambled into his side of the bed, Charlotte and Daisy in tow.

“What is it, _Tithen_ _Pen?_ Did you have a nightmare?”

“Nuh-uh.  There’s a monster under my bed!”

Bard rolled over with a groan, and mumbled, “It’s just a dream, Beanie…”

“No, It’s really not, Da!  I heard it _after_ I woke up!” She began to cry.  “Can I stay here?”

“Tilda, you must learn to sleep in your own bed.” Thranduil rubbed her back.  “Did you not go to all that trouble to switch rooms, so you would not be afraid?”

“I _do_ like it,” she wailed, “but there’s really _something under my bed!”_ The little girl crawled over _Ada,_ settled in between them, and declared,  “I am _not_ going back in there!”

“She’s not fibbing, you know.” They looked up and saw Sigrid standing in their doorway, with a shawl wrapped around her.  “There _is_ a noise, Da, and it sounds awful.”

Tilda crossed her arms, in vindication.  “Told you.”

“Fine,” Bard sighed.  He grabbed his robe and lit his bedside lamp.  “Stay here with your sister, and we’ll see what’s going on.  Come on, _Ada_.  Let’s slay some monsters.”

The Kings opened the door to the girls’ new room, and heard a low, unholy growl.

“Well that’s creepy,” Bard’s eyes widened, as he grabbed an andiron from the fireplace.

They both got down on their hands and knees, as Bard set the lamp on the floor, and lifted the side of the bedspread.  “Can you see?”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed, and his Elven eyes took in the sight.  Two eyes reflected against the light, and he saw the outline of a creature, lying on its side…

“The mystery is solved, _Meleth nîn_.  Look.” 

Bard stuck his head underneath, and was met with an angry hiss, and another growl.  “I’ll be damned…”

The King’s smiled at each other, then went back, where they found the girls huddled in the middle of the big bed.

“Well ?” Tilda asked, with wide eyes.

“It looks like Farien forgot to switch rooms, Little Bean.  She’s stuck under there, and I think she’s in labor.”

“She is?” Instantly her terror was replaced with delighted squeals.  “Can I watch?”

“Well, first you need to get T—“

 _“_ _ **TAURIEL**_ _!”_ Tilda was off the bed like a shot, and slammed her sister’s door open. _“Tauriel!  You’ll never guess what in a million years!”_

Tauriel woke up, and quickly grabbed the nesting box she had prepared.  After urging Tilda to _not make a sound,_ Bard and Thranduil went back into the room and lifted each end of her bed, so Tauriel could transferr the laboring cat into the soft blankets.  Almost as soon as as the box was carried into Tauriel’s room, Farien gave birth to her first kitten, a little calico.

“He’s so cute!” Tilda, whispered. 

 _“She_ is,” Tauriel smiled.  “It is only the females that have three colors.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know, Little Bean, it’s just always been that way.” Bard said in a soft voice.  He yawned and stood up straight.  “I’m going back to bed.  Coming _Ada_?”

“In a moment.” He kissed his daughters.  “Enjoy the miracle of life, _Ill nîn_ _,_ then make sure you all get some rest.”

Before Thranduil left, he turned around and smiled at the sight of the three girls cuddled together in front of the hearth, smiling into the tall, wooden box.  He quietly closed the door behind him, but before he went back to join Bard, he went into his study, picked up the book he had been working on, and turned to a fresh page.

For the next hour, he carefully sketched the scene he had just witnessed, and wrote down the date and the story behind it. 

 

The next morning, the Kings found the girls snuggled together in Tauriel’s bed, fast asleep.  They silently crept into the room, and counted a total of six kittens.

“Let the girls sleep,” Bard whispered.  “They had a long night, and this might be the thing that gets Tilda back to normal.”

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 15 th of June 2943 T.A.**

Just after lunch, Thranduil’s messages from the Palace arrived, and he read one missive with great excitement.

“Bard!  We _must_ celebrate the Summer Solstice this year, _Meleth nîn!_  It is the _Elenion Panilwë Húmë,_ and the skies will be clear!”

“What is an Elennin… and why is it so important?”

“Elves always celebrate the First Day of Summer.” The Elvenking sat down in front of Bard’s desk and tried to contain his excitement.  “Last year, I was in my Palace during the _Tarnin Austa._ ” **1**

Bard tried to work out the Sindarin.  “’Summer Gate?’”

“Close, _Meleth_.   ‘Gates of Summer.’  The night before, there is a Silent Vigil held under the stars, and songs are sung as the sun arises.  It rained last year, so I did not mention it.”

“And you’d like to do this here?”

“Yes! This is no ordinary _Tarnin Austa_ , Bard! It is the same night as _Elenion Panilwë_ , in which the stars and planets are aligned in a special way.  This only happens once every thousand years or so.”  Thranduil was as thrilled as a child.  “Do you not see?  _If_ the stars are aligned so, and _if_ the night is clear, the legends say remarkable things can happen!”

“Remarkable _how_ , exactly?”  Bard’s eyes narrowed. “Your Elves aren’t going to start dancing around naked, are they?  Because I don’t think…”

“Nothing like that!” Thranduil laughed.  “I have only lived through three of the _Elenion Panilwë_ , but two of those nights were cloudy, and the other occurred when I was recovering from the Dragon during the War.”

“So…  You don’t know what can happen, then?  Which means there _really could be_ naked dancing…”

“Galion has seen it twice, Bard.” Thranduil smirked.  “Can you picture him doing that?”

“No; you’re right.  How would you go about this, without upsetting my people’s sensibilities?”

Thranduil smiled.  “We gather outdoors under the stars, usually in a clearing, facing East.  You could sit on blankets, to be comfortable.  At midnight, the Sacred Silence begins, and we greet the sun with prayers and song.  I think you will enjoy it, Bard.  The experience is different for everyone, but if one fully prepares himself to participate, it can be quite powerful.”

“All right; I’m game.  Let’s do it.”  The King of Dale agreed.  “Where do you want to gather?”

“There is that grassy knoll just outside the East Wall, that would be comfortable, and we could watch the sunrise from there.”

“What about Guards that night?”

“I could ask for volunteers, or ask the Dwarves.”  Thranduil suggested.  “I would personally see to it they were fully compensated, of course.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask.  Let’s spread the word, and see who wants to come.” Bard got up and kissed him.  “Just one thing: if anyone ends up dancing naked,  _you’ll_ be the one dealing with Hilda, not me.”

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 20 th of June 2943 T.A. (Evening)**

“Rhian!  Over here!”  Sigrid was sitting on a blanket, next to Tauriel.  Each carried a silver lamp.  “Hi!  I wasn’t sure you could make it!”

Rhian set her basket down, and spread out her blanket next to them.  It was an hour before midnight, and everyone was chatting and laughing, in anticipation for the Night Vigil.  A group of Dwarves with instruments were playing merry tunes, and a stand was set up to sell food and drink.

“ _Ada_ and Da are coming any minute, but they’ll be down there.”  Sigrid pointed to a place on the hill, that had been prepared.  _“Ada_ will lead the ceremony, and prayers, and I asked Tauriel to sit with us, to explain everything.  _Ada_ said he’ll speak in Westron, but the prayers are in Sindarin, so she’ll interpret.  Oh!  There’s Nualë!” She waved. “Come over and sit with us!”

The brown-haired Elf waved back and settled herself with the group.  “ _Gielu i tir dû laer lîn!”_

Rhian smiled at the Elf, as she settled herself. “I know we haven’t had much of a chance to get to know each other, yet.  It’s been really hectic lately.”

“I understand, My Lady.  How is your son?  Darryn is his name?”

“He’s fine.  My Da’s staying with him tonight, so I could get out.  Do you like it here in Dale, so far?”

“Very much, although, we all miss Meldon; he was a good friend.”

“I’m sorry.” Rhian said. “Do you know how his family is coping?”

“They returned to their village a few days ago.  His sister is due to give birth in October, and I think the child will cheer them all greatly.”

“Good evening!”  Ivran walked through the crowd, and saluted their group, with a smile.  “ _Gielu i tir dû laer lîn_.”

“ _Gielu i tir dû laer lîn_ ,” Nualë and Tauriel returned the traditional greeting, as they smiled up at the Elf. 

Sigrid interpreted for Rhian.  “That means, ‘Blessings on your Vigil,’”

“Can you join us, tonight?”  Tauriel moved over, and patted the place between herself and Nualë. 

“I would be honored.”  He sat down with them, and set his lamp down.

“How are you, Ivran?” Sigrid asked. 

“I am much better, though Ermon will not let me report for duty until the beginning of July.” He grinned.  “I am lucky he allowed me to take part in the Vigil, if I am to be honest, but I promised I would rest tomorrow.”

“He’s right; you lost a lot of blood,” Sigrid nodded her agreement.  “Are _you sure_ you’re taking it easy?”

“Please, My Lady!” he laughed.  “I am under strict orders from my King to follow instructions, or he threatened to send me back.”

“See that you do, Lieutenant.” Sigrid smirked. 

The group continued to laugh and talk, until the music slowed down into a reverent, slow cadence, and everyone settled down. 

Just before midnight, Lord Thranduil appeared, wearing a silver robe, with a diadem with small, sparkling diamonds on his brow.  Rhian also saw Lord Bard, dressed in black, with silver trim.  They walked over the place on the hill set up for them, and everyone rose to their feet, and paid courtesy to the Kings.

The Thranduil began the Ceremony:

_“Please, be seated, and welcome to the Vigil for the “Gates of Summer” or, as we call it, the Tarnin Austa, to celebrate the Summer Solstice.  Tonight, we are blessed with clear skies, so our view of the Stars will not be impeded, which is an occasion for great joy._

_“It is a Sacred Tradition that there be absolute Silence between Midnight and Dawn, for our people find great comfort in the Stars.  It is not unusual for friends to gather on this night, yet choose not to stay for the Vigil, so do not feel badly if some take their leave.  If you cannot commit to the Silence, for any reason, please take your leave now.  If, during the night, you find you must leave, please do so silently, so as not to disturb the others._

_“When the Silence begins, breathe deeply, relax and think of things that have always brought you joy.  This is a night to ponder all the good things the Valar have brought us, and for our friends and loved ones.  Breathe, and be thankful, and you will may be surprised at what you find.  Tonight, is perfect; the skies are clear and cool and many of us will be blessed.”_

As Rhian and the others listened, Tauriel leaned over and said quietly,  “If you can allow yourself to be open to the _Tarnin Austa_  it is not unusual to find yourself holding hands with someone, or to be in a different position than you were when the Vigil began.”

“But we’re not Elves,” Rhian asked.  “Would that even happen?”

“You might be surprised.  One gets out of the Vigil, what one brings into it.”

Then the Elvenking led the Elves in the Hymn of Varda, invoking the sacred name of Elbereth Gilthoniel, which Ivran interpreted for Rhian and Sigrid.  It was a lovely tune, and the harmonies drifted through the night air and seemed to calm the souls of everyone present.  Rhian’s shoulders relaxed further, and she felt a sense of calm, and peace.

Thranduil called for everyone to turn to the East, to await the rising of the Sun, and after leading the Elves in a Prayer to Varda, Queen of the Stars, the lamps were put out, then the Sacred Silence began.

 

***************

 

**Lothlórien, 20 th of June 2943 T.A.  (Evening)**

“ _Mellon_ _nîn_ ; I have an extra lamp for you, should you need it.” Haldir offered, after he knocked on the doorway to Daeron’s room.

“Thank you, but I do not, thanks to my organized cousin.  Turamarth thought ahead, and packed mine.”  The Guardian grinned, as he continued to dig around the bottom of his trunk.  “I know I saw it…  Ah!”  He pulled it out and smiled.  “Here it is!  It was wrapped in my fur-lined cloak.”  Daeron held up the ornate object, decorated with silver vines, with colored glass leaves.

“That is quite beautiful.” Haldir admired the handiwork of the lamp, and read the engraving, in flowing Tengwar.  “Are they all decorated thus?”

“They are.  It is an important Rite of Passage, to experience one’s first Vigil, is it not?  It seems only right to celebrate it. In my country, when an Elf reaches his majority, he is permitted to attend the _Tarnin Austa_ for the first time, and we receive our Silver Lamp as a begetting day gift.” 

“I remember my first…” Haldir mused.  “My parents were with me, and Orophin was just an infant, so I _particularly_ enjoyed the quiet that night!” he laughed.  “It was not long after that I moved into my own house.”

“I do not blame you, though I enjoy children.  I especially like children of Men, and I admit it is terribly quiet here, since our refugees returned home.”

“I feel the same way,” Haldir agreed.  “The silence is deafening, I think.  But my people will have more children, and our forest will once again be filled with their laughter.”

“May they be blessed,” Daeron smiled at his friend.  “Come; I am eager to join the festivities.”

Oh, the Golden Wood was beautiful this night!  Caras Galadhon had their usual song at dusk to light the lamps around the city, but on _Tarnin Austa_ , once everyone was gathered and settled in their places, there was another song, as those lamps were put out.  Then the trees were alight with many different colors and the Elves lit their silver lamps, and began their Silence.

 

* * *

 

Haldir’s Sacred Silence was always spent remembering the loves ones no longer with him.

The Marchwarden missed his parents but sometimes during the Vigils, he could feel the comfort and peace of their presence.  He was always thankful for this, of course, but there was one person who’s loving presence always eluded him. 

He had longed to see his beloved Itaril,2 and on this special night, his wishes were granted.

Haldir had enjoyed walking with her through the giant Mallorn trees in the evenings, hand-in-hand, and he pictured these nights in his mind…

 

> …and there she was… Itaril was as lovely as he remembered her, with eyes that pierced his heart, and a smile that made him weak in the knees…
> 
> _“Gielu i tir dû laer lîn,”_ the Marchwarden’s breath caught.  “You seem so near, _Meleth_.”
> 
> _“Gwannas lû and,_ _Haldir.”_ Itaril said with a smile. _“Gielu i tir dû laer lîn.”_
> 
> “I am always near, because you have kept me in your heart.”
> 
> “But why have I not seen you, before this?” he couldn’t his frustration.  “All those years, I have longed to feel your presence! I do not understand…”
> 
> “You have brought me closer by bringing me out from the shadows of your heart, _Meleth nîn_.  You have allowed yourself to feel your love for me, once again.”
> 
> “That was difficult, because I made a terrible mistake and I turned you away.  Can you ever forgive me?”  Haldir whispered sadly.  “I _never_ stopped loving you, _Itaril!_ I was overwhelmed when I lost my parents, and afraid…”
> 
> “Shh…”  She put her fingers on his lips.  “I have never blamed you, Haldir.  And I understood your fears.”
> 
> “He took her hand, and kissed it’s palm.  “You feel so… real.”
> 
> “It is the magic of the _Elenion Panilwë_ , and it will not last.  Do not give up hope, beloved.  We _will_ have the life we dream of, Haldir, but first, you must play your part in the last War against Evil, and when it is done, I will be waiting, ready to greet you with open arms.”
> 
> “Itaril? Can I…” he hesitated.  “Can I hold you?  Just for a moment?”
> 
> She stepped toward him, and he reached for her, and enveloped her in his arms.  For just a fleeting second, he could feel the solid warmth of her, and just before she drifted away, she reached up and kissed him.

When the morning sun arose in the East, and the Songs began, he still felt the warmth and softness of her body, her kiss on his lips.

 

* * *

 

Last summer’s eve, it rained in Dale, and Daeron had been in no position to celebrate, as he and Hannah were with a patient who was struggling through a long and difficult labor.  This year, the night was clear, and he smiled, as he reveled in the sweet smell of the Golden Wood.

Despite the rarity of this Summer Solstice, his hopes for his Vigil were simple.  When Midnight came, Daeron closed his eyes, and his thoughts turned to love.  Love of his family, love of his homeland, love of the people of Dale, of friends, forests, and all the animals that lived in them. 

And, of course, he thought of Rhian, and Darryn. 

When Galadriel offered him a chance to see her in the Mirror that night, he noticed that her hair was longer, and though she looked tired after her rescue, there was an air of confidence about her, that he was thrilled to see, for more than his desire that she should love him, he wanted her to love _herself_ , and to love life.

And on this night, he pictured her looking up at the sky they shared, and sent her all that was in his heart.

 

> _I hope that you are well and happy,_ _Hind Calen_ … Daeron prayed.   _I love you, Rhian, daughter of Ben… I long to see you, to hold you, to touch you… My first thought upon waking each day is of you, and with my last breath on Middle Earth, I will whisper your name…_
> 
> And then he saw her.
> 
> Rhian was sitting on a hillside, and her eyes were closed, looking serene and breathtaking in the moonlight, as she held her face to the night sky.  He smiled as knelt down in front of her, took her face in his hands, and lowered his head to place a kiss on her lips. 

When the sun rose, and he opened his eyes, he was weeping.

 

* * *

 

Galadriel often held hands with Celeborn during the Vigil, and of course, she thought of their daughter, Celebrian, and sent her their love.  She did this night as well, but the clear skies and bright stars of this year’s _Tarnin Austa_ brought something else.

 

> Finarfin, King of the Noldor in Valinor3 was coming toward her, and she gasped with joy,
> 
> _“Aran nîn,”_ she curtsied in respect, then ran into his arms. _“Ada! Long_ have I wished to see you!”
> 
>  Finarfin smiled, and lifted her chin. “As I have you, _hênig._   As happy as I am to see you, I come with news and a warning; the time is drawing near for final battle for Middle Earth.  Will evil triumph to the ruin of all?”
> 
> “I will fight to the end, _Ada_ , and so will my people; you know this.”
> 
> “I do.  Still, this is a War we all _must_ win, or even the Undying Lands will be made to suffer.   To that end, a request has been made to the Valar, and they, in turn, petitioned Eru Ilúvatar, that help should be given.”
> 
> “Such as?”
> 
> “I cannot say, child, and you must not repeat what little you hear.  But this I ask of you: When the time comes, you must look past long-held grievances, and learn to trust what comes.  For if you and the others cannot, then the Enemy will profit from it, but if you can forgive, and learn, the Evil One can be destroyed.  _You must be ready to do this_ , Galadriel.”
> 
> “I will, My Lord.”
> 
> “In addition, you personally will face a perilous test, _Iellig_ , and you must be ready for that, as well.”
> 
> “How do I do this, _Adar?”_
> 
> “What was your desire, when you came to Middle Earth?  And what have you truly learned from your life here?  If you do not know the answer, you _will_ fall to temptation, and you will diminish, and all you have worked for will come to nothing.”
> 
> “And if I pass the test?”
> 
> Finarfin smiled, and caressed her cheek.  “Then you will diminish, and all you have worked for will come to nothing.”
> 
> “But _Ada!  I—“_
> 
> “Ponder my words carefully, _Iellig,_ for I can tell you no more.”  Her father took her hands and kissed her knuckles.
> 
> ”How is Celebrian?”
> 
> ”She lives with your mother and me, and though she misses you all, I am glad to tell you she is healed from her sorrows.”
> 
> “Are my mother and brothers well?”
> 
> “Your mother is happy to be with her sons,” Finarfin smiled.  “Finrod returned from Mandos’ Halls long ago, and wed his beloved Amarië, and they have three children.  Angrod and his wife are reunited, and your nephew, Ordoreth has given us two more grandchildren.”   
> 
> “And Aegnor?  Surely he would be released from Mandos by this time!”
> 
> “He… wishes to remain, _hênig_.His grief for Andreth will not diminish, so he wishes to stay, and find what comfort he can. 4
> 
> “Can no one help him?” Galadriel loved all her brothers, but Aegnor was her favorite, and this news pierced her heart.  “Surely there must be something!”
> 
> “It would take a miracle, _hênig,_ but we live in miraculous times, do we not?  Things are changing…” he chuckled, “Vairë and Nienna have spoken at length on his behalf, so who knows?” Finarfin lowered his eyes.  “If Aegnor is ever granted his deepest desire, I fear he will be sundered from us, forever.”
> 
> “Yet, I would still wish for his happiness.” Galadriel said, bravely.  “I have always wished him joy.”
> 
> “That is all we can wish for any of our children.”  Finarfin took his daughter in his arms.  “I must go.  Remember my words, and help your people to be ready.”
> 
> “I will, _Ada_.” She kissed his cheek. 
> 
>  “Farewell, my dearest daughter.”

When the singing of the sunrise softly began, Galadriel opened her eyes in wonder, and spent many days in solitude, as she searched her heart for an answer to King Finfarfin's riddle. 

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, June 21 st, 2943 T.A. (Just before dawn)**

Bard’s Vigil was difficult at first; the Bowman was used to a constant flurry of activity.  The idea of sitting still for hours at a time seemed foreign to him, and he couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting.

Bard considered peaceful scenes in his mind, but the one he settled on was a winter day on the Forest River, when it was quiet.  There had been an ice storm, and all the trees were glittering in the sunshine, Like hundreds of thousands of diamonds.  All was quiet, except for the soft sound of the water flowing past him, as he steered around the curves of the river. 

With a sigh of satisfaction, he lowered his gaze and opened his eyes…

> …and there, sitting on the deck of his old barge was his father.
> 
> “Hello, son.” Brand said, with a smile, and pointed to an upended crate beside him.  “Have a seat.”
> 
> Dumbfounded, Bard did as his father ordered.  “Da?  How came you to be here?”
> 
> “Do you really need to ask?” His father tilted his head and looked at his son with a smile. “There are lines on your face, and you have the look of your Grandad; he couldn’t grow a decent beard, either.”
> 
> Bard couldn’t help but chuckle.  “It’s true.  I miss you, Da.”
> 
> “Me, too, but you’ve done me proud, son.  I see your mother’s namesake is almost grown up, and the spit of her Mam.  Does she act like Mattie?”
> 
> “In every way.  I just wish my…” his voice caught.  “I wish my kids could know you, Da.” 
> 
> “They will someday, son.”
> 
>  “I got married again, did you know?”
> 
> “Mattie came and told us.  That’s quite a husband you’ve got there - the Elf King himself, eh?” He tilted his head at Bard. “Does he love you?  And the children?”
> 
> “He adores them, but he doesn’t want them to forget their mother.  He - Thranduil - saved us all, when the Dragon came, and things just…happened...  We love each other very much, Da.”
> 
> It occurred to Bard that he could have spoken about killing Smaug, or becoming King, but those things...
> 
> “...aren’t important to me, you’re right, lad.” Brand finished his thought.  “Any man who can’t love his family, would make a shit King anyway.  You’re a good father, Bard.  That’s what’s important.  Everything else will follow.”  
> 
> “I can’t be with you and Mam, Da.  I’m going with Thranduil, in the end.”
> 
> “Your Mam and I know that, Bard, but you’ve done the right thing.” Brand reached over and put his hand on Bard’s knee and squeezed it.  “We’ll miss you, I won’t lie about that, but you’re meant to do this.”
> 
> A small dock appeared along the side of the river, and the barge drifted over to it, of its own volition.  Brand stood up. “This is where I get off, son.”
> 
> Bard helped his father onto land, but not before he caught him in an embrace.  “I love you, Da.” Tears fell from his eyes.
> 
> “As I love you, my wonderful boy.  Brand kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, son.”
> 
> “Bye, Da.” Bard wiped his eyes, and tried to smile.  “Be good to the kids, when you see them, yeah?”
> 
> “Course we will, lad!” Brand waved, with a laugh.  “Your Mam and I plan to spoil ‘em rotten!”

Bard sighed, opened his eyes, and saw that his hand was still raised in farewell.

 

* * *

 

Thranduil closed his eyes, and felt the soft breeze on his face, as he settled himself for the Vigil.  It took a while to calm his senses, and follow the same advice he gave to Bard.  All his life, he’d wondered about this special night; what would happen?

He took several deep breaths, and cleared his mind… 

 

> …he was in the Forest, at the foot of his favorite tree, and it looked just as it did when he was a child.
> 
> _“Galu,_ _Mellon_ _nîn_ …”  The Elvenking pressed his hands on the bark and communed with his dear friend.  “I have not seen you much, of late.  Forgive me.”
> 
> “I remember when you sneaked out of the Palace to climb it,” a low voice said behind him.  “You broke your leg in two places, as I recall.”
> 
> Thranduil knew that voice, and turned to see Oropher, appear before him.
> 
> “ _Ada!”_ He threw his arms around his father.  _“Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn…”_ he whispered.  “My heart sings to see you.”
> 
> “As mine does to see you, _Ion nîn_.” Oropher smiled serenely.  “Especially now that you have found happiness, again.  Your mother is pleased.”
> 
> “How is _Nana?”_
> 
> “She likes this Bowman of yours. His children are a delight, as well as your Tauriel.  They have changed you, and it brings me joy to see it.”
> 
> “Bard has helped me to open my heart again, and though it be brief, I treasure this time with his children.  I love them, _Ada.”_
> 
> “We are happy for you, Thranduil.”  Then Oropher grew serious.  “I must speak to you about your new children, _Ion.”_
> 
> Thranduil’s heart began to pound.  “Will they be all right?”
> 
> “The boy will be a great King, and will prosper, but his heir will face an impossible challenge, and when the time comes, you and Bard must help him, or the North will be lost before the War even begins.”
> 
> “Can you tell me more?”
> 
> “The Enemy will send a messenger before the Throne of Dale, and the King will need aide, to resist this minion of the Dark Lord.”
> 
> “Surely not!”
> 
> “Thranduil, this is the final, and most terrible Battle for control of Middle Earth.  Our Creator and the Ainur are using this _Elenion Panilwë_ to send wisdom to those who can save it. Cirdan, Elrond and Galadriel are being given similar messages, so there will be no need to speak of it, lest these words be overheard by the Evil One and be used against you.  Say _nothing,_ do you understand?”
> 
> “I will not, My Lord.”
> 
> “In the coming years, there will be some who will come to help, to make reparation for deeds done in the past.  You will see them for who they really are, but you _must not_ reveal their true names.  You will be tempted to turn them away, as you recall old grudges and past hurts, but I am asking you to accept them, and learn to trust them, Thranduil.  For when the time comes, they will show themselves, and help you save your Kingdom.”
> 
> Oropher put his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder.  “Do you vow to do this?”
> 
> “Yes, _Ada_.”
> 
> Oropher smiled at his son.  “I know you miss Legolas, _Ion nîn_.  He still bears love for you, but needs time; do not rush him.  He will return when he is ready, but remember Mírelen’s warning: You have to let him go and play his part, when the time comes, even if it is to his death.  I am sorry; there is no other way.”
> 
> At this the Elvenking could only nod his head.
> 
> “You are a good father, _Ion._ Your _Tithen_ _Pen_  has been of particular interest to the powers that be.”
> 
> “Tilda?  Is there something I should know?”
> 
> “Are you aware that Lady Galadriel used the Light of Eärendil to heal your child?”
> 
> “Eärendil?” Thranduil was astounded.  “What will this mean for her?”
> 
> “She will certainly remain healthy, but beyond that is difficult to predict.” 
> 
> “What should I do?”
> 
> “Love and care for her, as with all your children.” Oropher smiled. “Allow her to be a little girl, and watch her grow.  I foresee that from young Tilda’s line will come an answer to a long and fervent prayer.”
> 
> Oropher placed his hand on Thranduil’s cheek.  “You have been a excellent King, Thranduil. Your mother and I are proud of you, and we love you very much.”
> 
> “Please tell her how much I miss her.”
> 
> “I will.”
> 
> Thranduil couldn’t answer; his throat grew tight.  “I love you, _Ada_.”
> 
> “As I love you, _Ion._ We will see each other again on the White Shores, and will be eager to meet this Bowman of yours.”
> 
> They embraced for several minutes, then the first King of the Woodland Realm turned to walk down the path, and vanished.

Thranduil felt the sun begin to rise, opened his eyes, and began to lead his people in song.  And he never spoke of Oropher's words, but he kept them close to his heart, and when the time came, kept every one of those promises.

 

* * *

 

At first, Rhian simply concentrated on her breathing, and pictured memories of all the things she loved:

…the day Lord Thranduil carried her tiny, newborn son into the room and placed him in her arms…   She relived the joy, when the Elvenking blessed the baby, and declared his name to be Darryn.

The day she received that letter from Ben, asking if he could adopt her and be her Da…  Standing in the King’s study at the Palace as Lord Bard performed the ceremony, making the three of them into a real family…

Rhian offered a prayer of thanksgiving for her new, wonderful life here in Dale, for her beautiful, healthy son, and for all her friends.  She thought of Lord Bard, and Lord Thranduil, and their family, of Hannah, and her Da, of Evan, and Sigrid… 

 

> She found herself sitting in her Garden, on the bench in front of Daeron’s flowers.
> 
> There was someone coming.
> 
> “Rhian?”
> 
> There, on the stone path, was her closest, and dearest friend.
> 
> “Daeron!” She jumped up and ran to him.  “How…”
> 
> The Elf smiled, and shrugged.  “It is the magic of the _Elenion Panilwë."_   He laughed with joy."I am happy to see you, _Hind Calen!_ ”
> 
> “I miss you!” She threw her arms around him, and hugged him tight.
> 
> “And I you, _Hind Calen_.” Daeron hugged her back, then looked over her shoulder.  “Your Gardens look beautiful.  I see you have pink lilies, as you said you would.”
> 
> “I do,” She was suddenly shy.  “And lots of other things.  Come and see?”
> 
> “Of course." He stepped back, and took her hand. "Show me what you have done.”
> 
> The two of them walked around the various beds, as she showed him her designs and plans.  When they came to one, Rhian said, “I planted all your bulbs together, see?”
> 
> “They are coming in nicely.”
> 
> “They’re purple Irises, our favorite.”  Rhian was suddenly nervous, and she was flustered. "You know that already.  I mean..."
> 
> “They are." He smiled down at her.  "Please, do not be nervous.  Are you well, Rhian?  Truly?”
> 
> “I…  am.  So much has happened, and I feel different, but in a good way.  I don’t know how to describe it, except to say I feel like…me.”
> 
> “And this is good?” 
> 
> “It's wonderful!  I feel free, Daeron.  I don’t wake up dreading the day anymore; I’m excited about it! I really like my life,” she grinned, “even when Darryn is screaming his head off, and I’m changing his smelly clouts.” 
> 
> “I do not think I would miss that,” the Elf joined in her laughter.  “How is he?  Is he truly well?”
> 
> “Oh, he’s so beautiful!  He looks at your picture every day, you know.  It's next to his crib, and he still points to it and calls you ‘ _Ada_.’”  Rhian smiled up at him.
> 
>  “That makes me happy, _Hind Calen_.  _You_ _have_  blossomed, just like your flowers.  I have always thought you beautiful, but now, you shine, and you have never looked lovelier.”  He gently lifted a strand of wavy hair in front of her face.  “At last, my Rhian, your heart is whole.”
> 
> As she looked up into the Elf's face, and listened to his words, she began to understand why Evan was not the one for her, why no one else could ever be for her...
> 
> ...and that he had always loved her.
> 
> “Oh…”  She reached up and cupped his cheek.  “You waited for me..."  
> 
> Daeron’s eyes filled, and she could see him swallow.  “I did.”
> 
> “All this time… Why didn't you say anything, before?”
> 
> “Because you were not ready, Rhian.”
> 
> “And you gave me time.”  Her eyes swam, and a tear rolled down her cheek.  “You were patient, and kind, and gentle, and you did all that for me; not asking for anything in return..."
> 
> Daeron took her face in his hands, and wiped her tears with his thumbs.  “I wanted to, _Hind Calen_.  You needed to be free, even if your heart turned to someone else," he swallowed,  "I wanted that for you."
> 
> He was right.  She was ready to love freely, and the truth of her heart made itself known.
> 
> Rhian loved Daeron.  She did.
> 
> This dear, beautiful Elf had sacrificed much for her, and was still waiting, and Rhian understood he needed her to say it, first.  And she desperately wanted to say the words, not because he wanted to hear them, but because _she knew they were true._
> 
> "I love you, Daeron, with all my heart."
> 
> “Oh, _Meleth nîn_.” His breath caught, and he searched her eyes. "Do you truly?"
> 
> "It’s you...” she said, crying again.  "It was always you.  And I don't love you, because you were kind to me, or patient, although I'm grateful for that.   I don't love you because you've been my friend, but I love you because you are beautiful, and wonderful and I can't be anywhere but by your side.  I want you, Daeron."
> 
> His eyes filled with joyful tears.  “I love you, so much.”
> 
> Still holding her face in his hands, he leaned down slowly, and his lips hovered over hers, in nervous anticipation.  Rhian had never wanted anything so much in her life as this kiss, so she met him the rest of the way, and captured his mouth, to show him that her words were true.
> 
> This patient, wonderful Elf was kissing her, and she was kissing him, and it was the most wonderful thing she'd ever felt. 

When the sun rose in the East, Rhian opened her eyes, and felt the beginnings of a whole new life.

Because  _at last,_ she found a home for her heart, and it was with Daeron, son of Adamar, Guardian of the Woodland Realm.

 

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Ci maer, Gwinïg?_ \- Are you well, Little Fingers?

 _Mae g'ovannen, Ada! Ni maer, a gin?_ – Hello, _Ada_! I'm good, and you?

 _Ai, ni maer eithro._ – Ah, I am well, also.

 _Ill nîn –_ My daughters

 _Elenion Panilwë Húmë_ – (Q.) “Walk among the Stars” is a special alignment of the stars and planets, which only happens on _Tarnin Austa_ once every thousand years.  Legends say that if the skies are clear on this night, the veil between worlds can be lifted for a time, but only for those whose hearts have no malice.

 _Gielu i tir dû laer lîn_ – Blessings on your Summer Vigil.

 _Hind Calen_ – “Green Eyes,” Daeron’s nickname for Rhian

 _Gwannas lû and,_ _Meleth nîn_ – It has been too long, my love

 _Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn_ – A star shines on the hour of our meeting

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  “Tarnin Austa (meaning "Gates of Summer”) was held on the first day of summer. It was custom to begin a solemn ceremony at midnight, continuing it until dawn of Tarnin Austa. No-one could speak from midnight to daybreak, but upon the rising of the Sun they would burst into ancient songs, with choirs standing upon the eastern wall. At that time the city was filled with silver lamps, and lights of jeweled colors hung on the branches of the new-leaved trees.” - J.R.R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien (ed.), The Book of Lost Tales Part Two, pp. 172, 211, 347 
> 
> http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Gates_of_Summer
> 
> [2] From “An Invincible Summer,” CH 30: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/36538245  
> 
> [3] Finarfin was the Son of King Finwë, and father of Finrod, Angrod, Aegnor, and Galadriel.  http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Finarfin
> 
> [4] Andreth was a Wise-woman, who was in love with Galadriel’s brother, but could not marry her, because of the Siege of Angband.  In her later years, she and Finrod had a long discussion.  http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Andreth


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s “The Morning After the Night Before,” and many have questions about their experience during the Silent Vigil before the “Gates of Summer.”
> 
> Sigrid has questions, Bard has questions, Rhian has important questions, and…
> 
> …a certain Elven Prince, currently wandering around with the Dúnedain, has questions, but is given some answers as well…

 

“I was made and meant to look for you and wait for you and become yours forever.”

** ― Robert Browning **

 

**Just outside of Bree, 21 st of June (Early Hours of the Morning)**

The Elf’s time among the Dunedáin had opened his eyes to vastness of Middle Earth, and its varied cultures.  All the history lessons Galion forced him to sit through as a child, came to life in a way he’d never dreamed, as he traveled through these lands.  Galion’s voice ran through his mind frequently and now he was glad for the frequent admonishments to sit still, and pay attention.

On the Eve of _Tarnin Austa_ this year, Halboran and the other Rangers were enjoying a rare rest in the beds of the Prancing Pony, but the Elf known in the wild as “Beleg” was not with them. He'd wandered several miles into the woods beyond the lights and noise of the town, and found a small clearing with an unimpeded view of the sky.  He removed his cloak, and spread it on the grass, and laid down, with his hands behind his head with a sigh. 

He closed his eyes, and repeated the prayers he had heard all his life at _Tarnin Austa_ ,[1] then, alone in this forest, his Silent Vigil began.

 

> He wasn’t alone.  There was another presence, and he opened his eyes again.
> 
> An   _Elleth_ stood before him, with long, dark wavy hair, looking down on him with dark, velvet-soft eyes. 
> 
> “Am I disturbing you, Legolas Thranduillion?”
> 
> “How do you know my name?” he asked nervously, as sat up with his hand automatically reached for his dagger.  “It is secret.”
> 
> “Be at ease, My Prince; no one can hear us,”  She smiled down at him.  “You have grown into a strong and worthy Elf, and I am proud of you.”
> 
> “Do you know me?”
> 
> “I do.”  The _Elleth’s_ soft laugh was full of familiar warmth, though he didn’t remember seeing her before.  “As I recall, you were an active and mischievous Elfling, who enjoyed running, and stories and hugs and the end of the day.”
> 
> He hated to be rude, but he had to admit the truth.  “I am sorry, My Lady, but I do not remember you.  Did you move away from the Palace?”
> 
> “In a manner of speaking.” Her lips curled upward in an enigmatic smile.  “May I sit with you?”
> 
> He nodded dumbly, and shuffled over on his cloak to make room for her to sit. 
> 
> “So,” he said.
> 
> “So,” she seemed amused.  “Tell me; do you have any memories of your mother, Legolas?”
> 
> “No,” he couldn’t stop the bitterness from his voice.  “My father wanted to pretend she never existed, especially to me.”
> 
> “Legolas,” she placed her hand over his, “I promise you, that was not the reason.  Tell me, _hênig_ : What do you remember about your mother?”
> 
> He searched himself and vague recollections began to surface.  “I remember warm arms, holding me tightly to her chest.  She smelled of lilies, and had the softest cheeks, and beautiful hands—”
> 
> She squeezed his fingers.  “Like my hand?”
> 
> He was silent for a few moments, as he studied her long, smooth fingers.  “Yes,” he whispered, nervously.  He looked away, and stared at the edge of his cloak.
> 
> “Do you remember her hair?” she asked.
> 
> “It was dark…” he closed his eyes shook his head.  “No; I am sorry, but this is not—”
> 
> “Legolas, _Ionneg_ , look at me, please.”
> 
> Slowly he opened them again, turned his head, but didn’t meet her eyes. 
> 
>  “I used to sing to you,” she smiled.  “Do you remember this?”  The _Elleth_ began a simple children’s counting song, about animals in the forest.
> 
> As Legolas listened, the memory of his mother’s voice rushed to the surface of his mind.  His throat tightened, and his vision clouded with tears. 
> 
> “ _Nana?”_ his rasped.  “You are _Nana_ …” Instinctively, he reached for her, and felt the same warm embrace from his long-hidden past.  She held him tight for several minutes, as he breathed her in. 
> 
> “How can this be?” he pulled back, and stared into her face.
> 
> “It is no trick,” she smiled.  “This is the night of the _Elenion Panilwë_ _._ When the stars are aligned thus, on the Eve of Summer, remarkable things can happen, if the sky is clear, and one’s heart is pure.  Did not Galion teach you all this?  I had assumed he tutored you, as he did your father.”
> 
> “He did, but I did not like to do my lessons,” he admitted.  “I hated to sit still for hours like that.”
> 
> At this, the woman laughed.  “That has not changed!  The moment you learned to walk, you were hardly ever still.  You rushed through your days, until you collapsed in your bed at night!  Your _Ada_ and I used to chase you all over the Palace, and play hiding games with you.”
> 
> “ _Ada_ never chased me.” Legolas shook his head, and he couldn’t keep the bitter tone from his voice.  “He hated me, because I looked like…” he looked down at his lap.  “After my mother - _you –_ died, he did not want me anymore.”
> 
> “Oh, my son; that is not the reason at all.  Your father was struggling with things you never knew about, things that had _nothing_ to do with you.”
> 
> “But he took down all your portraits, and I have never seen them!  He would not speak of you, and no one at the Palace ever said your name!  His teeth clenched in fury, “ _He_ robbed me of any memory I could have!  You became nothing more than a shadow, a thought, with no face, no voice, _nothing!”_
> 
> “You are correct,” she said quietly, “and that was unfair to you—“
> 
> “You are right; it was not!” He couldn’t help his fury.  “I lost my mother, but after you died, he…” his breath caught, “my father left me, too!  I lost both my parents that day, and losing my _Ada_ was even worse than losing you, because _he left me by choice!”_
> 
> The _Elleth_ grabbed his hand, “I am very sorry for your pain, _hênig.”_
> 
> “My pain?” He couldn’t help his anger, as the emotions welled up inside of him. “I was an _orphan_ , do you understand?  An orphan with a living, breathing father who could not stand the sight of me, who could not stand to be in my presence for more than a few minutes, before he turned away!  It was you, he loved, _Nana_ , not me!  Never me!” the tears fell from his eyes, and off his chin.  “He never wanted _me; why wasn’t I worth anything to him?”_
> 
> “Oh, _Ionneg_ ,” she reached for him, and held against her bosom.  “Open your heart, and let it all out.  Weep for the pain and loneliness, if you can, and free yourself from it.”
> 
> Legolas didn’t want to cry, but her arms felt warm and strong, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt like he… _belonged to someone._   His breaths came out in short, shallow gasps, then turned to sobs, and the poisonous wound of loss, deep grief began to flow from him, and he couldn’t stop. 
> 
> And she was patient, and murmured to him and kissed his hair.  Her touch soothed him like nothing had before, and at last he realized that her words were true: this  _Elleth_  was indeed Mírelen, his mother, and it only made him hug her tight and cry that much harder.
> 
> He had no idea how long they’d been like this, but she did not seem to mind holding him, and he found he didn’t want to let go.  Finally, his breathing became regular and he laid his head on her shoulder and was silent for several minutes after he calmed down.  His eyes were closed, and his heart was lighter than it had been in a very long time.
> 
> “Thank you,” he whispered.
> 
> “I am glad to help you,” she stroked his hair.  “It is a joy to hold you again, _Ion nîn_.”
> 
> “I have missed you, _Nana._ Always, there is a hole in my heart, where you used to be.”
> 
> “I know.  I love you very much, Legolas.  I have always loved you, more than anything.”
> 
> “’More than life,’” he whispered.
> 
> She pulled back, and kissed his forehead.  “That is true also.” She smiled at him.  “Those were your father’s parting words to you.”
> 
> Legolas nodded.  “He said it to make me feel guilty.”
> 
> “That is not so, _Ion nîn_.”  Mírelen looked into his eyes.  “Your father did _not_ want to lose you.  The day of the Battle pulled the scales from his eyes, and at last, his heart became unchained.  You were right to confront him, Legolas, and though you did not intend it, your sharp words helped him.  Thranduil saw what he had become in your eyes, and he wept for hours over it.  He loves you, my son; he always did.”
> 
> “No.” He shook his head angrily.  “My father is nothing but a cold, unfeeling—“
> 
> “He was an Ellon, whose _fëa had been torn in half,_ do you not see that?  It took everything for him to keep from fading, Legolas!  The day I was killed  _broke_ him, and yet he kept his promise to me, and did not fade!  Has anyone spoken to you of that day?”
> 
> “You were killed by Orcs; that is all I know.”
> 
> His mother studied him closely.  “I will not speak just now of that day, nor will I tell you of the things haunting your _Adar_ since before I knew him.  What I will tell you is that he is happy again at last, and I rejoice for him.”
> 
> “But how can _Ada_ do that to you?  To your memory?  He has forgotten about you, _Nana!”_
> 
> “He has done no such thing!  Your _Adar_ suffered greatly to stay with you and his people, and grief had turned him into a living, breathing ghost.  It was I who petitioned the Valar, to release him from our bond.  As soon as I was released from the Halls of Waiting, I demanded that they help him.”
> 
> “Why would you do this?  He married a Mortal, _Naneth!_ Bard will die, and he will once again be locked in grief!   And when he sails to Aman, what will become of the two of you?”
> 
> “My son, there are many things you do not understand yet, but as your mother, I ask that you trust me.  Your _Adar_ has my full blessing in his marriage to Bard, as does the Valar.  The King of Dale brings him joy, and his wounds, which are deeper than you know, have truly been healed.”
> 
> “How could Bard succeed, where I did not?  Why wasn’t I enough to help him be happy?”
> 
> “You did disappoint anyone, _Ionneg_.  Thranduil knows he failed you, and whether you forgive him or not, he suffer from regret until Arda is no more.”  She ran her fingers over his brow, and tucked his hair behind one ear.  “I hope in time, you can choose forgiveness, for that will be the only thing that can heal your heart, beloved.  For now, just consider my words.”  She smiled gently. “I need to speak to you about Tauriel, _Ion nîn_.”
> 
> He immediately became tense.  “I have tried to avoid thinking about her,” he admitted quietly.
> 
> “I want you to search your feelings carefully, if you would.  Do you still love her?  Truly?”
> 
> Legolas took a deep breath, and considered her words.  He’d first met her as an infant, covered in dirt, and smelling of smoke.  She was nestled in his _Adar_ ’s arms sleeping soundly, but her tears had left streaks on her dirty little face.  Since that day, everyone on Royal Wing was under the spell of her innocent charm, her long, red ringlets, and her laugh.  Tauriel loved to laugh!  Legolas watched the Elfling climb over Thranduil’s defenses, only to crawl in his lap, take his face in her chubby little hands and say, “You have to smile, _Ada!”_
> 
> And for a while, their father did smile, if only a little.  Then the Smaug the Dragon came to the North, and from then on, Thranduil seemed…haunted, and retreated into himself in a way that not even Tauriel could help.
> 
> Since then, he and Tauriel relied on each other more than ever for companionship, and affection.  It seemed only natural they end up together - no one knew him like she did, and they hardly needed to speak at times, because they were so attuned to each other. 
> 
> Of course, he loved her – he always had!  But when she started to get restless, and increasingly curious about the world beyond their borders, his feelings seemed to deepen.  Had he truly been in love with her, or did he need her to keep from feeling alone, again? What did he really know about being in love?
> 
> “I do not think I know.” He finally whispered.  “My feelings for her are strong…”
> 
> “And they always will be, _Ionneg._ Taurielwill always love you, as a sister, as a true friend.”  She put her fingers under his chin and turned his face to her.  “She relied on you, just as much as she did Thranduil, when she lost not only her home, and but both her parents.  Then she fell in love, and not only had watched him die, but she feels like drove away her oldest and dearest friend.  She, too, knows what it is like to feel abandoned and alone, do not forget that.”
> 
> Legolas sighed, and looked down in shame.  “I know.  Is she all right, now?”
> 
> “She will be.  The Dwarves have named her Friend, and your new family care a great deal for her.”
> 
> “It is not _my_ ‘new family,’” he muttered, “It is _Ada’s.”_
> 
> _“Legolas!_ ” His mother’s reprimand was sharp.  “They are _all_ your family, now, and you must remember that!  Feel the hurt, yes, but only do so to work it through! _Do_ _not_ be a coward, and fall into the pit of self-pity, for _that_ _is_ _not_ _who_ _you_ _are!”_
> 
> His eyes widened at the vehemence of her rebuke, and he felt deeply ashamed.  “I am sorry, _Nana._ I am sorry.”
> 
> She studied his face.  “You have carried wounds for a very long time, my son, and these needed to be tended to.  I think the healing has begun this night, but you must seek further guidance.”
> 
> “What should I do?   _Ada_ told me to find the Dúnedain, and I thought it would help…”
> 
> “And he was right to do so.  You found the distraction you needed, increased your tracking and fighting skills, saw some of the wider world, did you not?”
> 
> “I have enjoyed it very much, but do I stay with them?”
> 
> She stroked his cheek with her thumb.  “Your Chieftain plans a trip to Rivendell this winter?”
> 
> “He does.  I have never been, and am anxious to see it.”
> 
> “Your time of seeking distraction is done, for a while, at least.  Now it is time to find peace for the turmoil in your heart.” She smiled wistfully.  “Rivendell is a wondrous place, _Ion nîn!”_ I was born and raised there, and you will find many who knew my family, and will be happy to tell you stories.  You will also meet the one your _Adar_ spoke of, there.”
> 
> “‘Strider?’”
> 
> “Yes.  But that is not his name just yet, and even he will not know his true name for some time.  He is hidden from the world, for his own safety, and you must call him by his adopted name, until such time as Lord Elrond deems it wise to reveal the truth to him.
> 
> “Legolas, the one called ‘Strider,’ will bear all the hopes of Men on his shoulders, and he will need you, if he is to fulfill his role.  Be his friend, his protector, his confidant, for Strider will rely on your loyalty and support more than you can imagine.  You must not allow him to lose hope!  Do you promise to do this, my son?”
> 
> He leaned into her touch.  “I promise, _Naneth.”_
> 
> “Lord Elrond has been given something to keep for you, and he will present it to you when he deems the time is right.  This gift will help you, but only if your heart is open, and can accept it in the spirit with which it was given.”   
> 
> Her eyes misted.  “We will not meet again until you sail into the West, my dearest son, and I’m afraid the time will not passc quivkly enough for either of us.  You have much to do until then.”
> 
> “What is it like, _Nana_?  Valinor?”
> 
> She smiled.  “You will find out for yourself, one day, and I will be waiting on the Shores, to greet you.  I am also to tell you that when the time comes, do not hesitate to invite your friend to come with you.”
> 
> “Pardon?”
> 
> She chuckled.  “My words will have meaning, one day, so keep them close, and do not forget them."  She got to her feet.  "I am sorry, dearest, but I must go.”  
> 
> “No… please… stay with me,” he pleaded, as he stood.  “You cannot leave me, now!”
> 
> “I never left you, Legolas.  Every time the wind would lift your hair, and you would feel a cheek tingle, that was me kissing you.”  She stroked his cheek, gave him a reassuring smile.  “And when you feel it again, think of me watching over you, and praying for you, and it will bring you comfort.
> 
> “You will face many perils, _Ion nîn,_ and must be brave.  You must continue to use the name “Beleg” in your travels, and do not utter your true name aloud, outside the borders of Rivendell or the Golden Wood.  There will come a time when your true name will be a part of something greater than you can imagine, and then be bold with it, and use your position as Prince and heir.  Trust Lord Elrond, and follow his counsel in all things, for he is among with wisest in all of Middle Earth.  Do you promise this?”
> 
> “I do, _Naneth_.”
> 
> She threw her arms around him, and held him tight.  “I love you more than you can know, my beautiful son, and I promise you; your _Ada_ loves you just as much,” she whispered.  “Forgive him, Legolas, for only then will your heart be whole.”
> 
> “I will…try.”
> 
> She kissed both his cheeks.  “Now, close your eyes.”

He did, and when he opened them, the sunrise was just peeking through the clouds, and his face was wet with tears, which continued to flow for a very long time.

 

***************

**City of Dale, 21 st of June 2943 T.A.**

The all-night Vigil didn’t leave the Kings tired throughout the next day, but there was no question they were ready for bed that night. 

“I’m glad we did the Vigil, love.”  Bard crawled into bed beside him that night.  “We’ll have to do that every summer, from now on.”

“I would like that.”  The Elvenking gave a happy sigh, as he settled in Bard’s arms.  “I have wanted to see the _Elenion Panilwë_ since I was a child.”

“Was it everything you expected?”

“Yes,” he grinned.  “I…” he began, then stopped.  “Do you wish to speak of what we saw, Bard?  We do not have to, if you are uncomfortable.”

“I’d love to with you, but I don’t want to tell everybody else.  It’s so…”

“Private?”

“That’s it.  I feel like I want to keep it close; does that sound silly?”

“Not at all.  These are treasures to keep in our hearts, _Meleth nîn_.” He took Bard’s hand and kissed his palm.  “I saw my father, Oropher.”

“Really?  Me, too!”

“You saw Oropher as well?”

“No,” Bard chuckled, “I mean, my own Da.”

“Would you like to tell me about it?  Only as much as you want, of course.”

Thranduil listened to his husband describe the  encounter in his soft, husky voice with a smile.  “I am happy for you, _Hervenn nîn_.  I am also happy your father likes me.”

“It’d be awkward if he came to yell at me, wouldn’t it?  But he knows I chose rightly.”  Bard became pensive.  “That’s the last I’ll ever hear from my family, like that.  I never expected any of it, but it’s hard not to feel sad.”

“We will never see another _Elenion Panilwë,_ Bard, at least on Middle Earth.  The time of the Elves on Middle Earth is near its end, _Meleth_ , for good or ill.”

Bard lifted his head and looked concerned.  “Did you father say something about that?”

“Yes.  All the Elven Lords on Middle Earth have been sent news, as well as a warning, but I cannot speak of it, just yet.”

“A warning?  Should I be worried?”

“No.  Not for as long as you or Bain are King of Dale.  How long after that, I do not know, but when I can, I will tell you everything, I promise.  Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I do, love.  Anything you need.” He kissed Thranduil’s head.  “So… other than that, what does my father-in-law think of me? 

Thranduil smirked. “He thinks you are too hairy, and you curse entirely too much, but at least you do not fart in the bathtub, like I did as an elfling.”

“He didn’t say that!” Bard tugged his hair.  “Did he?”

“No, the Elf chuckled, and jabbed him with his elbow.  “ _Ada_ and _Naneth_ like you and the children, and they are happy for me.”

“Maybe Mírelen put in a good word for me.”

“I am sure she did.” The Elf rubbed slow circles on Bard’s chest.  “He did have a few things to say about our Tilda.”

“Really?  Good things, I hope.”

“The best.  Galadriel used some…extraordinary magic to heal our daughter, and it could mean something for her.”

“Extraordinary _how_ , exactly, and what would that mean?”  A wary tone entered Bard’s voice.  “They don’t… _expect_ anything from her, do they?  She’s just a little girl…”

“No.  In fact, I am instructed to make sure she enjoys a typical childhood.  What _Ada_ meant was that no one can say how this will benefit her, or even if it will, but without it, she would be dead.  Galadriel possessed a phial, which contains some of the Light of Eärendil, and she used its to save her, _Meleth nîn_.”

“Eärendil?  You mean, like the star?  My child was healed with one of those…?”

“To be precise, she was healed with the light from a Silmaril, which Eärendil sails across the sky in his ship.”

 _“What?”_ Bard sat up so fast, Thranduil tumbled out of his arms.  _“Thranduil!_   All I’ve ever heard about those damned things was horrible!  Even _you_ wouldn’t touch the Arkenstone, for fear it might be like them!  And now you tell me that that…power is… _could be_ _inside our eight-year-old daughter?”_

“No!  I am not saying that at all!  I know this might frighten you a bit—"

 “It frightens me a _lot,_ Thranduil!” Bard ran his fingers through his hair.  “That first winter, you sent me books full of stories of the madness for those fucking things!  Of course, I’m afraid!  Don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful Tilda is well—"

“She would be _dead,_ Bard!  From what Ermon and I have seen, she has the equivalent of a brand-new heart and lungs.  No Elf, not even Elrond or Galadriel, could do that alone!”

“But the Silmarils—”

“Galadriel _does not_ possess one, she merely has…a minuscule portion of its light, which is not the same thing."

“How do you know that?  Where did she get this… ‘light?’”  Bard demanded. 

“She has a fountain, in her private Garden, Bard, and it’s magic is powerful.  She uses its waters to help her ‘see’ things, and Eärendil’s star shone brightly onto those same waters, and she captured it in a special glass vial.  I promise, it is used for nothing but good.”  Thranduil cupped Bard’s cheek.  “Galadriel and Celeborn would _never_ cause harm to me or my family.  Can you trust me about that?”

“I’ll try.” Bard sighed and looked sheepish.  “I’m sorry, love.  This is still new to me, and Tilda is our baby, you know?”

Thranduil eased his Bowman back down, and put Bard’s head on his shoulder.  “I understand that, _Meleth nîn_.  Please also remember that Daeron was with the Lord and Lady, and we both know he would give his life to protect her.”

“You’re right.” Bard sighed, as the Elvenking rubbed his back and shoulder.  “I don’t trust Galadriel and Celeborn, only because I don’t know them.  But I do trust Daeron and I trust  _you_ , and if you tell me our Little Bean is fine, then I’ll believe that, too.”

 

***************

**City of Dale, 22 nd of June 2943 T.A.**

“Da?  Can I talk to you?” 

Bard was in his study, with his boots propped up on the desk, and his chin resting on his hand.  He shook himself and looked up, to see his oldest daughter standing in the doorway, watching him.  “Hmm?” he asked absently.

“I need to talk to you.  Do you have time?”

 “I do for you.  What’s on your mind?”

She smiled.  “You know Auntie Hil hates it when you put your feet up like that.”

He quickly lowered them to the floor and motioned for her to come in.  “I know.  I was just…”

“…thinking?”

“Aye, but never mind about me.  What’s up?”

“About the Vigil,” she began, “I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but it was...” she hesitated, “the only word I can come up with is… _huge.”_

“Did something frighten you?”

“No, nothing like that.  I…  well, somebody came to talk to me, and I don’t know if it was real, or if it was a dream, or what to even think about it.”

“Can you tell me about it?  You don’t have to, but might help.”

“Well, I saw – well _I think_ I saw - my grandmother, the one I was named after? At least that’s who she said she was, but I don’t know if I can believe it.”

Bard’s eyes widened.  “My mother, Sigrid?”

“Aye.  She was older, and a lot shorter than me, and her hair was a darker shade of brown than mine.  She looked like Tilda, only her eyes were brown, not blue.”

“Well, that’s because Tilda got her eyes from her Mam, like you did.  She sounds like your Gran, all right.” He enjoyed the rush of nostalgia at the memory.

“But how do I know I wasn’t just dreaming?” Sigrid’s face was worried.  “You and Auntie Hil always told me what she looked like, so it could just be my own memories playing tricks on me.  I mean, I _want_ to believe this, but…” she fidgeted with her fingers, “I just can’t.  Not yet, anyway.”

“That’s fair enough.  Would you want to tell me what you talked about?”

Sigrid blew out a breath, “She told me she and Granddad are proud of all of us, and she likes _Ada_ and Tauriel, too.  She also said I would serve my people as a Healer and a Wise-woman, whatever that is.”

 “As I understand it, a Wise-woman is someone who is an expert in the history and lore of her people.  You’ve always enjoyed that, so it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Me either, but I can’t see how that would be so important.”

“It’s _very_ important, love.  One day, Bain will be King, and he’ll need someone he completely trusts to advise him, Sigrid. He’ll need to know about of mistakes made in the past, so he won’t repeat them, of things that worked and things that didn’t.  Bain won’t have time to look up all of that, and he’ll need to know the truth of things.  Your brother will need someone, to keep him grounded when he gets too full of himself, and to build him up when he feels inadequate.  Your position as a Princess, which will give you the power to call out anyone who would try to manipulate him.”

“So… _if_ this is real, that would be good news?”

“The best.” Bard grinned.  “Who knows? Maybe you had this vision to prompt you into studying history more.  Either way, you all would benefit when I’m gone, and I’d feel a lot better about it.”

“But Da, it’s not like you’ll be dead, you’ll just be with _Ada_ , so…”

“That’s true, love, but I won’t be Dale’s Ruler anymore, and I can’t undermine Bain’s reign by hovering.  _If_ he comes to me for help, and _if_ need is great, then yes, I will help, but otherwise, it will be your time.”

“But what will you do, after?”

“I’m not sure, but _Ada_ and I will figure that out later.”  Bard studied his daughter.  “Are you all right?”

“Aye…  It’s all so… mysterious, you know?”

“Oh, believe me, I’m still trying to get my head around it.”

“Do _you_ think it was real, Da?”  She asked him.  “Be honest.”

Bard considered this carefully, before he answered.  “It’s true that when I spoke with your Granddad, he didn’t tell me anything new, just that I was on the right path.  I’ve got no real proof to give you, Sigrid, but seeing my Da, and listening to him say how proud he was of all I’ve been doing…” He smiled, as his throat tightened, and he spoke with a rougher voice, “I’ll carry that will me for all my days.  I have faith in it.”

Sigrid was silent for a minute, as she considered all this.  “I think that’s a good way to look at it.  Maybe it doesn’t matter if it’s real or not, just what we think about it.”

“Exactly!  See?” Bard smirked at his daughter. “You’re a Wise-woman already.”

She laughed.  “So, you saw Granddad?  He looked happy?”

“He did.  And your Granny did, too?”  Bard asked, and Sigrid nodded yes.  “It’s nice to think they watched over us all those years, isn’t it?”

“Aye…  She did say something else, but I was so flabbergasted at seeing her, I forgot to ask about it.  Maybe you know…”

“Ask away, Sig.”

“Who is Jenny?”

Bard froze.  “What did you say?”

“She said to tell you ‘Jenny’ sends her love?”

Bard’s eyes blinked, and covered his mouth as a long-past memory rushed to the forefront of his mind. 

“Da?  What is it?”

“Sigrid, Jenny is my older sister.  She died when she was a year old, before I was even born.  There was something wrong with her heart, and she…  Oh, stars…” He was stunned.

“How did you know about her?”

“Da showed me a little ribbon, with her name embroidered on it, just after Mam died.  I was only eleven, and having a hard time with her death, but he showed it to me, and said Mam wouldn’t be alone, because my sister, and the other baby she lost, would look after her.  When your Granddad died, I put the ribbon in his hand...” He blew out a breath, then looked over at Sigrid.  “I never told you about Jenny; I’m sure I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

Bard felt ashamed.  “It wasn’t done on purpose, love.  Da only spoke of her and that child she miscarried only once.  Then I was so busy scraping out a living in Laketown to think about things like that.  After that I got married and you kids kept us both busy, and after I lost your Mam, and I just tried to keep going. Your Auntie Hil could tell you more about it, if you want to know.”

“So, this…really happened?  I _really did_ see Gran?” Sigrid’s eyes were like saucers.

“Looks that way, love.” Still choked up, Bard got up and hugged his daughter close.  “I’m so glad you told me this,” he kissed her hair.

“Me, too.” She whispered.  “I feel like everything is different, because Gran’s _real_ , now.  Does that make sense?”

“It makes perfect sense.” He smiled into her hair.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 24 th of June 2943 T.A.**

“Hello, Rhian!  What can I do for you, today?”

“My Lord, May I talk to you?”

The young woman entered Thranduil’s study, looking uncertain, and something was clearly on her mind.

“Is something troubling you, _hênig?”_ The Elvenking asked with concern.

“Well, I’m wondering about something that happened the other night, and I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Would you like to sit down?” he offered her the seat in front of his desk.  “Galion has gone on an errand—”

“Would it be possible to speak somewhere private?” Her green eyes pleaded with him.  “It’s rather personal, and I haven’t told anyone…”

“I see.” he quickly put his pen away and the stopper back into the ink.  “We can go into my chambers and we will not be disturbed.”  He got up, walked around his desk and put his hand on the small of her back to guide her down the Corridor.

On his way, he peeked into Bard’s study, to find him hovering over some papers with Percy.  “ _Meleth nîn?_   Rhian and I need to have a private conference, and we will be using our room, if that is all right.”

“Sure thing, love.  Morning, Rhian!” He gave her a friendly wave, which she returned.

He spoke to Greta, the housekeeper, who was standing nearby.  “Could you please bring a tray with refreshments to my chambers, then see to it Lady Rhian and I are not disturbed?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Once settled in the two stuffed chairs in front of their fireplace, the Elvenking tried to ease her obvious anxiety with small talk.   “How is that little boy of yours?”

“He’s fine.  Hannah’s daughter-in-law has him at the moment.  He gets spoiled rotten over there.”

“Your son is easy to spoil,” Thranduil grinned.  “How are things at the house?  Are you comfortable?”

“Oh, yes; we’re almost back to normal, I suppose.” She chuckled.  “Da and Hannah are spending a lot of time together, did you know?”

“If the smile on your father’s face is any indication, I would say it has been good for him.  Do you think it is serious?”

“I hope so,” she told him.  “I love them both, and they deserve to be happy.”

“I agree—Ah!  Here we are…  Thank you, Greta.”  The housekeeper came in with a tray of tea and cakes, and set it down on the table beside the Elvenking.  After a smile and a curtsy, she left, closing the door behind her.

“I’ll be ‘Mother.’” Rhian stood and poured out the tea, then handed the Elf a cup.

“Thank you,” he took a drink, and waited patiently for her to settle down, and tell him the reason she wanted to talk to him.

“My Lord—”

“Just Thranduil, please.  Bard and I have a strict rule against ‘Kinging’ in this room.  Here, I am simply your friend, as you are mine.  Now, what can I help you with, child?”

She took a deep breath.  “You are an Elf that married a human, so I know that it happens…”

“It does.”

“But Elves have all these gifts, and so many things a human doesn’t have.  What would an Elf see in one of us?  Bard is a King, so he’s different, but what about somebody plain, and ordinary?”

“I happen to know a little about loving humans,” He smirked, “and I can assure you, it is very rewarding, and has nothing to do with the fact that Bard is a King.  Forgive me, but are you not spending time with Evan, Alun’s Assistant?”

“He and I have parted ways,” she told him.

“Did something happen?”  Thranduil couldn’t help the rush of fatherly concern.  “Was he unkind, or—”

“Oh, no!  Nothing like that, at all.  We both realized that we’ll always be friends, but nothing more.  I mean, he’s great, but I just don’t love him, and he doesn’t either.”

“I see.” 

“I’ve…  I think I’m in love someone else, but I really don’t know what to do about it, or even if I can.” Rhian fiddled with the spoon on her saucer.  “I don’t know if he loves me back, or if he just sees me as a friend.”  She looked at him with her deep, green eyes.  “I don’t know how it works with Elves, and I… was hoping you could tell me?”

The Elvenking sat back, set his cup down and crossed his legs.  “I can tell you that Elves often experience something we call ‘ _Ehtë Raumo,’_ when we first see our bond-mates.  It is like a lightning bolt, and is very powerful.  I felt it when I first saw my wife, in Rivendell, and loved her deeply.” He chuckled.  “It does not always happen, though.  She did not like me, at first, but I won her over.”

“May I ask if it was like that with Bard?”

“No.  I had met him several years before, but he had just lost his Mattie, and could not see beyond his own pain.  I had compassion for him, of course, and I did like him, but once we met again in Dale, things were different.” His mouth curled up in a mischievous smile.  “Now, Turamarth’s parents were struck with the ‘thunderbolt’ when they first saw each other.  Indis nearly fainted, and Ómar fell from his horse, which is especially embarrassing for an Elf!”

“Oh, no…” Rhian giggled. 

“We teased him for many years, about it.” Thranduil chortled.  “You should ask Indis about it, sometime.”

“And they’re still in love?”

“Oh, yes.  Rhian, Elves never marry for any other reason than love.  We do not have political matches, or loveless unions; we are not made for such things.  In addition, the actual marriage for Elvenkind does not actually take place at the ceremony.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.  An Elven marriage is the actual joining of two _fëas_ , or souls, which can only take place at the consummation.  It is one of the most powerful things in our lives, and that is why a widowed spouse can fade from grief, because the _Rista-Goel,_ the Terrible Severing, of the _fëas_ is agony, and leaves an emptiness which can hardly be borne.”

 “That’s horrible!” Rhian cried.  “I mean, I’m sorry to say that, but that’s just cruel!”

“You may be right, but we have been given hope, _hênig._    Things have recently changed for our people, to ease our grief.  I am living proof of this, because now, I can relish my wife’s memory without suffering, and that also brings me joy.”

Thranduil studied the young woman carefully.  “Has something occurred, to make you so curious about these things?”

Rhian slowly nodded, and he could sense her inner struggle.  “Aye. I mean, I think so...” She took a deep breath and blurted out her dilemma.   “I realized I was in love with somebody.  Maybe I’ve always loved him, but I was so mixed up from things to make sense of much—“

“Perhaps you were not ready, child.” Thranduil was beginning to understand where this was headed, but remain cautious.  “It was wise to take the time to heal yourself, do you not think?”

She nodded.  “I think so, too.  But at the Vigil, I… _saw him,_ and I don’t know if any of it was real.  I want it to be, but…” She rolled her eyes. “You know about these things, and about Elves and how different things are, and I thought maybe you could help me find out if I’m just being a silly fool, or—“

“Rhian, what does your heart tell you?” He asked gently. “I think you know the truth of what you experienced; you just need to find the courage to face it.” He tilted his head and gave her an encouraging smile. “But I am not concerned; you are one of the bravest women I know.”

“Thank you,” she blushed, shyly.

“I can also promise that, while some things are different, _love is love,_ and that is the same for both genders of all races.  How do you feel, _hênig?”_

“I feel like something inside me has…burst, and now he’s all I think about!  I don’t know what to do, or even if he loves me back!  What if he doesn’t see me as anything but a friend?”

Thranduil regarded her carefully.  “Is the Elf in question residing in Dale, at present?”

“N-no…   He’s not.” She admitted.  “He’s in Lothlórien"”

The Elvenking felt the excitement grow, but needed to be absolutely sure.  "Is it Daeron?”

“Yes, but I don’t know if he—“

 _“Rhian! This wonderful news!”_  

"But how do you know that?  I could have dreamed all of this, and he may not think of me that way!" She threw her hands up and began to cry.  “What if he doesn’t want me?” 

He was off the chair, and on one knee before her in an instant.  "Rhian,” he smiled and took her hand, “allow me to tell you of a conversation Daeron and I had, back when you were all staying at the Palace..."

Then he told her the truth.

And she cried even harder, but this time with happiness.

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Hênig –_ My child

 _Ion nîn_ – My son

 _Elenion Panilwë Húmë_ – (Q.) “Walk among the Stars” is a special alignment of the stars and planets, which only happens on _Tarnin Austa_ once every thousand years.  Legends say that if the skies are clear on this night, the veil between worlds can be lifted for a time, but only for those whose hearts are filled with goodness.

 _Ehtë Raumo_ – (Q.) Lightning Bolt  (lit. “Storm Spear”) Sometimes, when an Elf first encounters his or her bond-mate, they can feel a powerful, emotional response, like lightning.

 _Rista-Goel_ \- “Terrible Severing,” when a bond-mate dies and their _fëa_ is summoned to the Halls of Mandos.  Often a spouse fades from the agony, but even if they live, they are but a shell of their former selves.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Tarnin Austa (meaning "Gates of Summer”) was held on the first day of summer. It was custom to begin a solemn ceremony at midnight, continuing it until dawn of Tarnin Austa. No-one could speak from midnight to daybreak, but upon the rising of the Sun they would burst into ancient songs, with choirs standing upon the eastern wall. At that time the city was filled with silver lamps, and lights of jeweled colors hung on the branches of the new-leaved trees.” - J.R.R. Tolkien, Christopher Tolkien (ed.), The Book of Lost Tales Part Two, pp. 172, 211, 347
> 
> http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Gates_of_Summer


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day has finally come!  The King of Harad (the real one, honest!) has come with his entourage to collect the children...  
> ...and one of them has a surprise for King Abdullon and his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're stepping away from Daeron and Rhian for a little bit, to make sure these refugees get home safely, but their romance will be back soon, I promise!

 

 

 

“However, I’ve learned that the heart can’t be told when and who and how it should love. The heart does whatever the hell it wants to do. The only thing we can control is whether we give our lives and our minds the chance to catch up to our hearts.”

 

** -Colleen Hoover, Maybe Someday **

**City of Dale; 30 th of June, 2943 T.A.**

After the attack from Jarod and his gang, the preparations for the arrival of the King of Harad was a comfort and a distraction, that helped everyone in the City to get back on track.  Many still struggled to recover from the betrayal and attack from The Boss, “Jarod” and his men, and they assuaged their guilt for trusting these monsters, by working hard to erase any hint of this treachery from the home they were all so proud of.  They also wanted to give Harad children a fond farewell.

The message had arrived last week, that there would be just over fifty in the party, and would be staying in Dale for at least four days, to allow their horses to rest.  Hilda was zooming around like a headless chicken.

“You don’t need to, Hil.  They said they’ll be setting up their camp outside the North Gates.”

“I know, I know, but I want them to see this place looking grand, Bard!  We’ve got a lot to be proud of.  Now, I’m off to speak with Innkeepers to make sure that they know what the Harad men like to eat and drink.”

Greta and the rest of the household staff made an extra effort to scrub and polish the Great Hall and its dais, to wipe away the memories of the attack, and (though they did not speak of it) any memory of blood spilled there. When it looked like new, everyone silently reclaimed the building, and felt better.

The street crews, under Ben and Percy’s watchful eye, had made sure the City looked bright and welcoming, and colorful banners were hung in the Marketplace.  All the shops were displaying their best wares, behind spotless windows, above swept and scrubbed sidewalks.

Cook was busy searching for recipes that might appeal to their guests from Harad, and tried out different dishes on the Royal Family (who enjoyed it for the most part, but couldn’t get Bain and Tilda try anything with chick peas in it, no matter _how_ much he spiced it up).

Since Wynny’s murder, Cook had been making a point to be courteous to all the Castle staff, and though it could hardly be believed, he and Greta were actually getting along!  Everyone saw this as a good step, especially Hilda who was tired of trying to broker peace between them. 

> _“If I didn’t know better,” Hilda said to Percy, when they were getting ready for bed one night, “I’d think they liked each other more than they want to admit.”_
> 
> _“Oh, ho!  Finally caught up, did you?” her husband grinned.  “Cook’s doing the same thing I did, when we first met.”_
> 
> _“What in Mordor are you talking about?” She demanded.  “back then.  Gods it seemed like all I did was yell at you!”_
> 
> _“I know,” Percy grinned, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.  Hey!” He laughed and raised his arms, as she thumped him soundly with her pillow.”_

Finally, the day arrived, and thank the Valar, the sun was out.   It had rained all week, which made the children antsy, because they weren’t allowed to play in the Great Hall, and couldn’t go outside.

Adila had returned to work after three weeks, and threw herself into the preparations to the point of mania, Indis had come to see the Kings a few days ago, out of concern.

> _“My Lords, I fear that Mistress Adila will feel at loose ends after the children from Harad leave, and will suffer from that loss, too soon after losing her husband.”_
> 
> _“Is there nothing that can be done for her?” Thranduil’s brows furrowed.  “Should I offer her and her children a place to stay at the Palace for a time?”_
> 
> _“You could, and she would benefit from the change of scenery for a while, but that will not solve her problem.  She needs more than that, though I do not know what it could be.  I simply wish to make you aware that we are watching out for her.”_
> 
> _“Thanks, Indis.  I appreciate it.” Bard said.  “How are her children?”_
> 
> _“Sad at the loss of their father, though they are happy to be back home.  In a way, it is unfortunate that school is not in session, for the routine would help them.  I am afraid they too, will be at a loss.”_

In the end, there was little anyone could do but be mindful, at least until after the Haradhrim left.  Hilda had promised to give her situation some thought, as soon as she had the chance. 

The bells at the North Gate had been rung, signaling their approach, and Bard stood with his family on the dais of the Great Hall, and wasn’t surprised to feel the butterflies in his stomach; the last time they anticipated the approach of the King of Harad, it had ended in… 

 _No!_ Bard shook his head and tried to center himself.   _No more!_

“ _Meleth nîn_?”  Thranduil was beside him, and took his hand.

“I’m just…” He sighed.

“…remembering?” The Elvenking squeezed his hand. 

Bard nodded, as he winced.  “Sorry.”

“Do not be.” Thranduil moved closer. “It is difficult not to think of before, but we are truly together and are safe; nothing will happen, _Meleth_.”

 _“Gi melin, Thranduil”_ Bard whispered.

“And I love you.”  Thranduil squeezed his hand again, then turned to the children.  “Are you all right?” he asked them.

“I’m fine,” Sigrid nodded. 

“Me, too.” Bain said, from the other side of Bard. 

Thranduil looked down at Tilda, who was holding his other hand.  The little girl was looking increasingly nervous.  “ _Tithen Pen?_  Are you well?”

“I don’t know,” she said in small voice.

The Elvenking made to pick her up, but Tilda suddenly dashed back into the building, and they could here her hurried footsteps, as she dashed through the Great Hall, and into the back.  Thangon began to whine, and stood up from his place beside Bard, to follow the little girl.

“No, Thangon; _Tulë!”_     Bard stopped him.  “I need you with me, boy.”

The great dog sat, but still looked to the door.

 “I’ll go…” Hilda turned, and began to follow, but Bard stopped her, too.

“I’m sorry, Hil, but I need you here, too.  Ruvyn?” Bard called over to her Guard. “Can you please look after Tilda?”

“Of course, My Lord.”  The Guardian stepped forward.  “Do you want me to bring her back?”

“Only if she’s ready; don’t push her.”

“Yes, My Lord.”  He removed his helmet and went inside.

The foreign party entered the courtyard, with even more splendor than before.

Bard blew out a breath.  _Just stop…  You can do this…_

Abdullon IV, King of Harad, stopped his horse in front of the steps to the Great Hall, and dismounted, along with his guards, and made his way up the steps.  He looked to be Percy’s age, with grey at the temples of his thick, blue-black hair.  He was a handsome man, but bore himself with great authority, who did not suffer fools, or tolerate disobedience.

Bard took a deep breath, whispered, “Here goes nothing…” then stepped forward, touched his head, his mouth and his heart and extended it, “Welcome to Dale, Your Illustrious Majesty.”

 

***************

 

“Tilda?”  Ruvyn located her in her bedroom, where she was sitting on her bed, fiddling with Charlotte’s red hair, and trying not to cry.  He knocked on her doorway, and asked gently.  “Are you well, My Lady?”

She shrugged, and looked down at her doll.  “My stomach feels funny.”

Ruvyn sat down beside her.  “Can I help?”

She shrugged.  “I just get scared sometimes, you know?”

“I do.  When there are a great many strangers around, you feel a bit…uncomfortable, is that correct?”

“Uh huh.”  Tilda’s lower lip wobbled, and she wiped her eye. “I’m sorry I’m being so stupid.”

“No, child; you are not being foolish at all.  Would a hug make you feel better?”

“Okay.”

The Elf put his arm around Tilda’s shoulders and held her to him.  “We can stay here today, if that is your wish.”

“ _Ada_ and Da aren’t mad?”

“Not at all.  In fact, they sent me back here, so you would not be alone.”

“But won’t you miss the party?”

“I would rather make sure you are all right.”

“Because that’s your job, right?”

“It _is_ my job, that is true,” Ruvyn smiled, “but I would like to think I am your friend, as well?”

“Uh huh.”

“I am glad that is settled.  Now, where is your handkerchief, child?”  Tilda reached in her pocket and took it out, and Ruvyn dried her tears.  “Do you need to blow your nose?”

“Uh huh.” Tilda did it twice, then leaned against him, as she reached over and picked up Daisy, who had been sitting on her bed.  “Ruvyn?  You’ve had bad things happen to you, right?”

“I am sad to say that I have, My Lady.   My father and my brother were killed many years ago, and my mother sailed to Valinor.”

“Celeborn told me about that place.  She can’t come back, can she?”

“No, she cannot, and I would not want her to, though I miss her very much.  She was sad, and I feared for her health, so I asked her to go.  King Thranduil granted me permission to take her to the Grey Havens.”

“What’s that?”

“That is a place West of us, where Elves board the ships to go to the Undying Lands.”

“You must have been really sad when she left.  You were all by yourself.”

“I felt very alone, but when I returned home, Ivran who is my oldest friend, asked me to come live with him, and his family welcomed me into their midst.”

“Did they make you feel better?”

“They did.  You,” he smiled at her, “are fortunate, because you have your Da and _Ada_ and...”

“But people died, Ruvyn!” Tilda cried. “Those bad people came, and Meldon died, and he was my friend!  Wynny died, too!  I liked her, even though they said she did something bad, but she always nice to everybody!  Her eyes welled up, again.  “Those man killed Esta!” she wailed.  “A man killed her and threw her...  and now it’s all different, and everything feels wrong without her!”

“I’m sorry, _hênig.”_

“What if these people are bad, too?  Those other men pretended before,” she sobbed.  “I’m scared, Ruvyn!” 

“Shhh.... “ Ruvyn gathered her to him and made soothing noises. “We are safe today, Little One. Shall I tell you how we know for certain that these people are truly from Harad?”

“O-okay,”  She sniffed.

“Your _Ada_ and Da sent a message to the King of Harad, telling him what happened.  This message was in a small box with a spell on it, that can _only_ be opened by the true King.  Your Da wrote three “secret words” in that message, and the first thing the King must do when he arrives is to say those special words, so your fathers can be sure he is genuine.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Well, Commander Feren has the entire Elven force standing at attention, in the Courtyard, and he has worked out a special signal that your Da would give, if there is trouble.  I promise, Tilda, you and your family will be safe.”

“Are you _sure?”_

“As sure as I can be, My Lady.  But if you would feel better staying in here, your family understands.”

“Okay.” She took her kerchief and absentmindedly wiped Charlotte’s face.  I just don’t like to be around people I don’t know, right now.”

“That is understandable.”  Ruvyn agreed.  “You will not always be so frightened, My Lady.”

“How do you know?”  Tilda leaned against him.

“Well, let us consider some things: when you first came back, you to had to stay with your Da and _Ada_ at night, or you could not sleep, but now, you are in your own bed again.  Is that not a sign of progress?”

“Even if we switched rooms?”

“Even so.  You sleep at night in here and your parents are very pleased.”

“Well, I sleep _now…_   Farien almost had her kittens under my bed, and she made awful noises, but we put her into Tauriel’s room.  So that’s better.”

“That is true.  There is something else, too.  Who are you holding, right now?”

She looked down at her toys.  “Daisy.  And Charlotte.”

“If I remember correctly, you had a problem with your doll, at first?”

Tilda shrugged.  “Uncle Galion helped me.  He said I should try to talk to Charlotte and tell her the stuff that was bothering me.  I said I was sorry, too.”

“Did it make you feel better?”  Ruvyn raised his eyebrows.

“Uh huh.  A little.  It’s hard, though.”

The Elf smiled down at the little girl.  “It might take a while, Tilda, but I honestly believe you will be fine.  Now,” he stood up and picked up a book.  “Let us read a couple of stories, while you relax a bit, and maybe you will feel better, yes?”

“But I don’t have to go out there?”

“Only if you feel ready, My Lady.  Now, do you wish to read, or shall I?”

 

***************

 

King Abdullon bowed and paid homage to the King of Dale, and after doing the same to Thranduil, said a thick accent similar to Adila’s,   “I am honored by your greeting, King Bard.”  He stood up straight, and nodded.  “I am also eager to put any fears to rest.  I received your message, and though these were given to me in my language, My Lord, I would like to pay you the courtesy of saying them in yours.”  The King stepped forward, in front of Bard and Thranduil, and whispered three code words: “’Summer,’ ‘Emerald,’ and ‘Wheat.’”

Both Kings bowed again, and breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I am full of joy to receive your words, Your Illustrious Majesty.” Bard told him gratefully.  “At this moment, the Children of Harad are safe in Erebor, where no harm could come them, until we could be sure you truly were the King.   The King and Queen Under the Mountain are waiting for the signal to bring them.  They should be here within the hour.”  Bard nodded to the Elf who had a Raven on his arm, and the dark bird quickly took off toward Erebor.

“What is this deception?” the King said, in alarm, as these words were quickly translated to the others.  “They are not here?”

Three of the other Haradhrim began to speak rapidly to the King in agitation.  Abdullon raised his hand, and commanded,  “Zimita.  _Zimita!_ _”_  Instantly the men were quiet, but they looked angry and upset.  The King turned back to Bard.  “You will explain.  Why are these children held hostage from us?”

“They are held elsewhere for their own safety.  Forgive us, Your Majesty, but a month ago, someone claiming to be you stood here in this same spot.  These criminals distracted us, while others attacked the building where your children were housed and tried to murder them.” 

The Harad King quickly interpreted Bard’s words to the other men, and looked concerned.  “Were they harmed?”

“Thankfully, no.  These Imposters were part of a much larger group of criminals. They attempted to take your children, then tried to kill ours.  Two of our own daughters were kidnapped and nearly burned to death.”

 _“Āsikefī…”_ the King murmured.  “That is terrible!”

“It’s true!” Bain stepped forward and gave courtesy.  “I’m Bain, Crown Prince of Dale.  These people tried to kill me and my sister Tauriel while I was out riding, and at the same time, my other two sisters were taken, along with four others, and my youngest sister nearly died.  My father is only making sure everybody’s safe.  You can trust him.””

Bard watched the King narrow his eyes, and study Bain carefully, looking for a lie in his son’s face.  He couldn’t blame the other King, and wondered how he would react, if the situations were reversed? 

The King seemed a bit calmer, but the rest of his party were increasingly agitated, so Bard tried to smooth things over. “I’m sorry if you are offended, Your Majesty, but I cannot compromise the safety of any child, especially children who have been through so much.  My eight-year-old daughter still suffers the effects of her ordeal.”

Then the King of Dale squared his shoulders.  “I offer myself as hostage, if you do not see the return of your children within one hour, Your Majesty.”

As Bard spoke, one of the Harad party quickly interpreted his words to the rest of the Haradhrim, he could hear Sigrid’s and Hilda’s gasp, and feel the burning gaze from the rest of his family.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Thranduil whispered.

“Yes. It’s the right thing to do.  They don’t trust us, and I don’t blame them.  It will be all right; Dáin won’t let us down.”

Finally, Abdullon managed to calm the rest of them down a bit, then turned back to the King of Dale. “We will wait an hour; no more.  Any longer, and it will be considered an act of War.”

“That is all I ask.  I’m sorry for the delay, but I couldn’t take a chance.”

The Harad King gave Bard a nod.  “I cannot say I would not do the same, but I must make you aware that several of the men in our party are fathers of these children, and have been in agony.  I cannot guarantee they all will remain calm.  As a parent, I hope you can understand.”

“I do.  King Dáin, Lord of Erebor has my complete trust, Your Majesty, as does his wife, Queen Dilna.  It was the Dwarves who originally rescued your children from that village and brought them here.  They have been a tremendous help in our efforts to make your children feel at home.”

As before, all words between the Kings was quickly interpreted for the party, and while no one could say they relaxed, there was a tenacious acceptance.

“While we wait, shall I formally introduce my family?  This is my husband, of course, Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, and you have met my son and heir, Prince Bain…”

Once Bard finished the introductions, King Abdullon repaid the courtesy.  As it turned out, the three men who expressed their outrage were also Abdullon’s sons, and they looked to be about Bard’s age.  First the King and introduced his son and heir, Crown Prince Jammell- Werashi, and his two other sons, Princes Azimullah, and Muharrem, along with his secretary and the ranking officers, as Bard’s group paid the Harad the proper respect.

The King of Dale smiled and indicated the Great Hall.  “Our cook has prepared a feast to celebrate as soon as the children get here, but in the meantime, I would like to invite you to join us all for drinks.  Surely you have had an arduous journey and would like a little time to refresh yourselves before you are reunited?”

Everyone entered the Hall, where the Haradhrim took in the high, domed ceiling, and carvings along the beams, and the tables, which were laid out in Dale’s best linens and dishes bearing the seal of Dale, along with the seal of the Northern Kingdoms.  In addition, fingerbowls, a tradition in Harad were also placed in strategic intervals.

“Nice work, Hil,” Bard whispered to her.  “The place couldn’t look better.  Make sure to tell Cook and Greta they have our thanks.”

“I will.”  Hilda squeezed his hands and headed into the kitchens.  “Thank Adila, too.  We couldn’t have done it without her.”

“I will, when she gets here.”

Once everyone was seated, drinks were served.  “I also hope you don’t mind if we wait until the guests of honor to eat, but we have snacks, ale, and several different vintages from my husband’s kingdom,” he smiled at Abdullon.  “Although I warn you,” he pointed to a large carafe, “that actually comes from Dorwinian, and has a bit of a kick.”

 

***************

 

Thranduil watch the proceedings with pride in his heart.  It was hard not to think of the first time he came into Dale, and saw this ragtag, starving band of people.   Bard had looked exhausted then, careworn and completely hopeless.  When the wagons full of food began to enter the courtyard, the look on the Bowman’s face was priceless.  It was as if ten years had fallen from the Man’s face, yet his kingly countenance remained. 

And now, look his _Hervenn,_ holding his own with this ruler, who oftentimes was an enemy of the West!  His honest demeanor and dignity seemed to impress King Abdullon, though the Princes were ambivalent, he’d no doubt they would be won over, too.  His Bard might have a tendency toward self-deprecating humor, but no one should underestimate his leadership ability!

The two groups were becoming a bit more comfortable with each other, but the Elvenking did not miss the eager, anxious looks toward the doorway of the Great Hall, left open to let in the fresh air and light.  With a pang, he recalled that same sense of urgency, and could not image the agony these parents suffered.

“King Thranduil?” Abdullon was addressing him, “I understand you have three children, yet I see only two.”

“We actually have five children, between us, Your Majesty.  Our oldest, my son Legolas, is currently West of the Misty Mountains, though we hope to see him soon.  He is the child I fathered with my late wife. I adopted Tauriel as an infant, some years later.”  He indicated his red-headed daughter, sitting on the other side of Bain.  “She was formerly a Captain in my military, but now has been charged with the safety of Bard’s children.  Sigrid and Bain were born from his late wife, and his youngest, is Tilda.”  Thranduil smiled apologetically.  “Our little one has not had an easy time, since the attack, and is under the care of her Guard, until her anxiety passes.  I am hoping she will be able to come out, but I cannot push her.”

“I feel sorrow for her pain.  Are any of the rest of our children suffering so?”

“I have been told by Indis, their Counselor, that a few of them still suffer, but she works with them to help them overcome their fears.  Your Majesty, I can assure you, all three Kings of the North have devoted themselves to their well-being.  You should also know that the people of Dale, as well as my Elves who are stationed here, feel very protective of your children, and have shown them the utmost kindness and sensitivity.  They have wanted for nothing while in our care, and have spent a great deal of their time in studies, to continue whatever education was started when they were taken.”

“That is good news.” Abdullon sighed.  “And this Counselor, would it be possible for her to meet with us?”

“She would very much like to meet with all the parents while you are here.  In fact, I would like to formally invite you and your party to tour the facility where we have housed them.  The children have prepared a small program for you, with the help of Mistress Adila, one of their caretakers.  She was born in Harad, Your Majesty, and she served as a liaison and interpreter, to help them adjust.”  Thranduil leaned forward.  “You should know that Adila’s husband was one of those murdered in the attack last month, and her children were kidnapped, along with our two daughters.  She herself was nearly killed, but with the help of my Commander and Lord Bard’s dog, she was rescued.”

 _“Āsazanyi zēna…”_ Abdullon muttered.  “Will this evil never stop?”

“As Kings, we know evil is a constant, yet we must always try, yes?”Thranduil said in a sad tone.  “We have made every effort to destroy this network in the North.  You have collected the children from Lothlórien?”

“We have.  My brothers have reported that the children were healthy and happy to see them, but will miss their Elven friends.”

“That makes me glad, but I am not surprised.  My cousin and his wife rule that land.”

“Your cousin is Lord Celeborn?”

“That is correct.  One of my Healers is spending time there, which is fortunate, for he has extensive experience working with the race of Men.  Your children were in excellent hands.”  

Abdullon nodded.  “I am given to understand that several of the girls in your care have given birth?”

“They have – six to be exact, as you will soon see.  Lord Bard was adamant that the beliefs of your people be carefully observed, and the infants have remained with their mothers, with all the support as we can provide.” [1]

“You can do that?”

“Of course.  And considering what these girls have suffered, it was the least we could do.”  He smiled at the King of Harad.  “As in your Kingdom, Elves cherish _all_ children.  You might be interested to know that many of Dale’s orphans have been adopted by my people.”

“Really?  And the difference in race is not a problem?”

“There are fundamental differences, of course, but so far, it has worked out wonderfully.” He pointed to the auburn-haired couple sitting with a Harad Prince.  “That is Feren, Commander of my Military, and his wife, who are now parents of two beautiful little girls, and took in the girls’ grandfather.  As with my husband and myself, our family might have differing bloodlines, but all are equally loved.”

Abdullon raised his glass in a toast. “I am impressed, King Thranduil.”

The bells from the North Gate once again began to ring, signaling the approach of the wagons from Erebor.  

“That would be your children, Your Majesty,”  Bard grinned and stood up. 

The Haradhrim were instantly on their feet and racing through the doors and onto the dais, as the wagons were brought into the Courtyard.   

Dáin and Dilna were grinning from ear to ear, as was Dwalin, Balin and Bofur, as the Dwarves brought the wagons to a stop and set the brakes. The Courtyard was filled with shouts of joy as eager fathers rushed over, lowered the tailgates and quickly took their children into their arms.  Most of them wept with joy and relief.   The six Harad girls who had given birth were in the first wagon with Adila and Indis, and were carefully helped down, as well as their infants.

Hilda sniffed beside Thranduil.  “I think that’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen…” 

The Elvenking smiled and pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her.  “I agree.” 

Bard came to stand beside them, “Look!  Did you see that?”

Prince Muharrem was one of the fathers at the first wagon with sixteen-year-old Yasamine in his arms, and was weeping openly.  Mistress Adila was standing next to her, waiting patiently with her small son.

“Your Majesty?”  Thranduil turned to Abdullon…

…but the King of Harad was also at the wagon, eager to see his beloved granddaughter, and new great-grandchild.

“Oh Stars, that’s it!” Hilda gave up trying to stay composed, “That’s just it!” then burst into tears.

 

***************

 

“I had no idea you granddaughter was among the victims, Your Majesty,” Bard told him, when they all finally settled down for the feast.

“I hope you understand the deception, King Bard, but all of my family have been taught use a false name in situations such as this.  When you sent the list of children you were housing, we rejoiced to see that ‘Yasamine’  was among them.  Since she was small, Princess Aziza has been taught to go by her… what do you call it?”

“Alias?”

“Yes, that is it.  She uses her ‘alias’ if she needs to.”

“That’s a brilliant idea.  I don’t want to think of what could have happened, had these thugs known...” Bard winced.  “You have my condolences.  Truly.”

“Tell me, King Bard—”

“Please, just call me Bard.”

“Bard, then.  And you must call me Abdullon, yes?  King Thranduil tells me the children have been working with a Counselor…”

“Indis?  She’s right over there,” Bard pointed to the dark-haired Elf, sitting next to Adila and her children.  “She’s been doing that kind of work for a very long time,” he grinned, “and for an Elf, that is saying a lot.”

“It was kind of you to help them, in this way…”  Bard could see him struggle to keep his emotions in check. 

Bard put his hand on Abdullon’s shoulder.  “I can’t begin to imagine how relieved you are, and I’m happy for you.  I wish there was a way to erase the memories, but I’m sure they will do better once they get home.”

“Da?”  A small voice was heard behind him. 

Bard turned and saw Tilda standing nearby, nervously holding Ruvyn’s hand, and Charlotte clutched to her chest.

“Hey, Little Bean!  Would you like to meet the King of Harad?”  He held out his arms.  “Come sit with me, love.”

Tilda hesitated a minute, then quickly let go of Ruvyn and scrambled into Bard’s lap.

“Thanks, Ruvyn.”

”Of course, My Lord.” The Elf nodded graciously then took his place with the rest of the Guards.

"King Abdullon, this is our youngest daughter, Tilda.” He kissed the top of her head, and stroked her hair.  “She was feeling a little bit shy, today.”

“I am pleased to meet you, little Princess.”  Abdullon smiled and touched his forehead.  “And who is this?” he indicated her doll. 

“This is Charlotte, my friend.”  Tilda said quietly, then looked up at Bard.  “He’s really _really_ the King, right?”

“Yes.  This time, he’s real.  Does that make you feel better?” 

Tilda said nothing, but nodded her head, and leaned back against Bard’s chest.

“ _Ada’s_ glad to see you here, too.” Bard caught Thranduil’s eye, and pointed to their youngest. The Elvenking smiled at Tilda, then returned to his conversation with Prince Jammell.   “Did you know, Beanie, that Yasamine was really King Abdullon’s granddaughter?  He is very happy today.”

“She’s a Princess?”  Tilda looked up at the darker King.  “Her baby’s cute.”

“He is, indeed.” He smiled at her, then spoke to Bard.  “I want to assure you that all the babes will be cherished.  We do not punish any child for their bloodlines or circumstances.”

“I’m happy to hear it.  Mistress Adila has explained a great deal of your culture and traditions to us, so we could keep the children comfortable.  In fact,” he smiled, “in your absence, I was named temporary head of their _Gosa_.[2]  And thanks to my daughter here, I had plenty of stories to tell them, didn’t I, Beanie?”

“Uh huh,” Tilda nodded, shyly.  “Da let me pick out the stories to tell.” 

King Abdullon touched his forehead.  “I am sure you did a fine job, little one.  Did you visit our children often?”

“Aye.  Da took me every week, after school.”  She reached for a roll on her father’s plate.  “He told them a.. she struggled for the words, “‘tibbi…’”

“Do you mean, a _T’ibebi yazele tarīki?” **3**_

Tilda nodded.  “That’s always hard to say.”

“I admit, our language can be difficult for those not used to it, but the Wise Tales are an important tradition among my people.  Thank you, Princess Tilda, for your assistance.” Abdullon said solemnly. 

“You’re welcome, My – I mean…” She looked at Bard. 

 _“Your Majesty,”_ he whispered.

“…Your Majesty.” She finished.

The King of Harad took her hand and kissed it.  “Certainly, we can be friends, yes?  And among friends, you may call me Abdullon.”

Tilda nodded, and gave him a small smile.  “Thank you.”  Then she tilted her head upwards. “Da?  Can I go see _Ada_?”

“Sure thing, love.  Just make sure you ask Auntie Hil to get you a plate, all right?”

“I will, Da.”  She got down, then curtsied and looked at Abdullon shyly.  “I’m glad you got your granddaughter back.” And she scampered off.

“My family is whole once again, and we have been blessed with another.” Abdullon raised his glass.  “This is a day to rejoice.”

“It is, indeed.  We’ll be sorry to see them go, to be honest. We’ve enjoyed having them.”  Bard became serious.  “Tell me, if you would: have you able to recover all your missing kids?”

“I am sad to say, we have not.  We have yet to find them in the area near Gondor…”

Bard was incredulous.  “Turgon’s the Steward there, right?”

“He is.  I can tell you that his son Ecthelion has made some efforts, but…”

The King of Dale shook his head.  “I’m sorry to hear that.  How many are still missing?”

“We cannot locate forty-three children.  I must assume some of them are dead, but otherwise…”

Bard sat back and crossed his legs.  “I’m not sure, but I might be able to find out some more for you.  Say, tomorrow, here, about ten o’clock?  After, we can have lunch, then you can tour the building where they lived.”

“I appreciate that.  Today is not for business, it is for happy reunions.”

“I understand.” Bard smiled.  “Congratulations.”

 

After everyone finished dessert, and drank several toasts, Bard and Thranduil bid their guests good day, and the Dwarves helped bring the children outside of the City to the Harad encampment.

Dáin and Dilna came over and stood by them, as they all waved goodbye.  Hilda was sniffling again, and Percy had his arm around her.

“Ah’m ‘appy for the bairns, o’ course,” Dáin commented softly, “bu’ Ah’ll be sad te see ‘em go.”

“Me, too.” Sigrid said, as she leaned against her Da.

“Adila won’t go back with them, will she?”  Tilda was in Thranduil’s arms, leaning her head on his shoulder. 

“I don’t know, Little Bean.  Did she say anything to you?”

“No, but I heard Indis ask her.  She’s real sad.”

Bard sighed.  “I hope not, but I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted a change.  Well, gang, let’s get inside and see what the rest of the day brings, yeah?”

 

 

 

 

**TRANSLATIONS:**

_Gi melin, Thranduil.  Uireb –_ I love you, Thranduil.  Always.

Zimita. Zimita! (Haradish) - Silence.  _Silence!_

 _Gosa_ – (Haradish)  Family clan.

 _T’ibebi yazele tarīki_ – (Haradish) Tale of Wisdom

 

**NOTES:**

[1] From “An Invincible Summer,” CH 28:  “It doesn’t matter what any of us think.” Bard’s hand swept around the room.  “These children are Haradhrim, and as their guardians, it is our obligation to learn and respect the customs of their land, not ours.  Whatever our opinions or beliefs, we don’t have the right to impose them on these kids, do we?  In fact, if we try, we could not only cause discord among ourselves, which could affect the children, and it could cause them difficulty, when they are returned.”  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/36256695>

[2] From “An Invincible Summer,” CH 28:  “Adila stood, and graciously bowed her head.  “My Lords, My Ladies: It is important to understand what family means to the Haradhrim.   There is a word we use, ‘Gosa,’ which means ‘more than family.’  A typical Harad Gosa is large and extended, with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and many children who grow up like brothers and sisters, rather than cousins.  We also ‘adopt’ others who would otherwise be alone.” She turned to the Dwarves.  “I believe in your culture, you call them ‘Clans?’”  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/36256695>

[3] From “An Invincible Summer,” CH 29:  “A what?  I have to do what?”  Bard raised his eyebrows at Adila.  “What in the world is a ‘Tibbebbell…?'”

“A ‘T’ibebi yazele tarīki.’  A ‘Tale of Wisdom,’ My Lord,” Adila explained patiently. “The children will be expecting it.”

“But… why?”

“As their Guardian you are the Rasi - the Leader - of their Gosa, My Lord,” Adila explained patiently, “and as the Rasi, it is your sacred duty to impart your vast knowledge upon the children, so they may grow to be as wise as you.”   <https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/36408054>


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and his Bowman snatch a bit of private time, before the day begins.
> 
> A large meeting is held in the Great Hall, where the Harad learn the details of their children’s ordeal.  Then Bert, one of the prisoners gives his testimony, reveals something unexpected and terrifying, and an urgent message is sent to Gandalf.
> 
> While the Kings wait, Rhian has been thinking things over, and has a talk with her Da to tell him what’s been on her heart, then writes to Daeron...
> 
> Letters from Dale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you live in the US, don't forget to turn your clocks back, and as long as you're at it, change the batteries in your smoke alarms! It could save lives!!!
> 
> Also, for my fellow Americans: PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE... Get out and VOTE on November 6th!!!

PI  

 

“Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that I saw you, Did my heart fly at your service”

** -The Tempest – Act 3, Scene 1 **

 

**City of Dale, 1 st of July 2943 T.A.**

Thranduil awoke to solid warmth against his back, and soft kisses along the side of his neck.

“Morning, love,” Bard murmured, before rolling onto his back, and the Elf could feel his husband’s body grow taut as he stretched with a satisfied groan.

The Elf smiled, then rolled over and threw his arm and leg over his husband, and snuggled into him.  “We do not have to get up, just yet.  I want to take a moment to appreciate the joy of waking up in your arms.”

He could feel Bard sigh and wrap his arm around his shoulder, and kiss his hair.  “That’s a nice thought to start the day.”

“But it’s more than just being with you, Bard.  My Palace is beautiful, but I love it here, with these makeshift, rustic rooms, and all the noise and chatter our family makes. When we move into the new Castle, it will be quieter, and I will hate it.”

“I will, too.”  Bard kissed his hair, and sighed.  “I do plan to seal off the back today. What do you think about sending Tauriel and the children to the Mountain, until all this is over?”

“Do you fear for them?” Thranduil lifted his head.  “I do not sense anything from King Abdullon, but his sons, particularly the Crown Prince…”

“I sense something, too, but it’s understandable.  Abdullon seems open to cordial relations, but his sons aren’t likely to forget the kidnapping of their niece.”

“But she will have told her father and uncles of her kind treatment at our hands.  Hopefully all the children will do this.”

“I’m sure they will, but it’s more than that.” Bard stared up at the ceiling, thoughtfully.  “I get the sense that… well, some of the Harad think we might have ‘corrupted’ their children with our ‘ways.’”

“But that is not true, Bard!” Thranduil raised up again to give him a sharp look.  “We have _all_ worked hard to observe their customs, including the Dwarves!”

 “ _I_ know that, and _you_ know that, but some of them seem…’rigid’ about their beliefs.” 

“People of any race can be that way.  This idea of ‘purity’ is just lazy cowardice, and that is not your fault!”

The Bowman sighed.  “Well, it couldn’t be helped, and I’m not going to worry about it, now.  They’re probably angry at the whole situation, and we just happen to be in the way.”

“And we will give them seven men who deserve their rage.”  Thranduil rested his chin on his hands, “I had wondered if moving Bert and the others to Erebor last week was necessary, but now I see the wisdom in it.”

“It saves me from lying to them, which is not something I’ll do.”  Bard nudged him.  “Hey…. No ‘Kinging’ in here, remember?”

Thranduil grinned, and began to nuzzle Bard’s neck.  “I apologize for my transgression.  How shall I make it up to you, _Meleth nîn_?”

“Well, let me think…”

Thranduil began to kiss down Bard’s chest, and latched on to one of his nipples, and began to suckle, as his hand moved down to the lacings on Bard’s sleeping pants.

“Mmmm…” his husband murmured, then he gasped as Thranduil took him in hand.  “Fair’s fair…” Bard had Thranduil’s pants undone, and rolled over to face him.

They quickly worked each other into hardness, and both were writhing with pleasure, when they heard voices outside their door.

“Oh, shit…” Bard said, through gritted teeth.  “We need to—”

But Thranduil just smiled, then turned around to take Bard in his mouth, and sucked hard. 

“Ahhh!” his Bowman’s hips snapped up, and Thranduil’s hair was captured in his hands.  “Oh fuck… don’t stop, love!”

And the Elvenking didn’t, as Bard grabbed the Elvenking’s hips and pulled him closer to return the attention.  Thranduil groaned, and his cheeks hollowed, as he vigorously brought his husband to climax, and helped him make the most of it.  Bard quickly recovered, and and continued his own ministrations, until Thranduil sank his teeth into Bard’s thigh to muffle his scream. 

Thranduil sighed, then crawled back into Bard’s waiting arms.  The Bowman was lying on the pillows, with a satisfied grin.  “Gods…  How am I supposed to do any real ‘Kinging’ after a breakfast like that?”

 

***************

 

“Are we ready, gang?” Bard asked, hoping his voice held the confidence he didn’t feel.

The Kings were waiting on the dais along with several others, for the meeting today.  Tables in the Great Hall had been arranged and set up with linens and refreshments, ready to accommodate the large gathering.

Fifteen minutes before the hour, Dáin and Dilna entered the courtyard, with Balin, followed by Bofur, Dwalin and the prisoner, Bert.

“Good morning, Your Majesties, Lords Balin and Dwalin,” Bard and Thranduil bowed low in Dwarvish custom, as did the rest of the assemblage.

“A good morrow to you,” the Dwarves returned the courtesy, then Dáin stepped forward and clapped Bard’s shoulder.  “Yer man’s ‘ere, as requested.  Where do ye want ‘im?”

“You can bring him over, thanks.  How have all the prisoners behaved?  They haven’t given you any trouble, I hope?”

“Not a lick.  Bert here’s plenty nervous, but wanted te come.”

Dwalin was helping Bert get down off his horse.  His hands were manacled, but he was cleaned up, and his hair was combed out.

“Let’s take these irons off, Feren,” he ordered.

Then he addressed the man.  “My Council received evidence yesterday that proves your story, Bert, and as of this moment, you’re a free man.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Bert bowed his head. 

“Thank you for volunteering to do this, but if you want to change your mind, tell me now, and I’ll have you taken back.”

“I want to help, My Lord, even if it means you have to give me over to them.  I don’t care what happens to me.”

“Surely you don’t mean that,” he said, gently.

 “To be truthful, I... don’t know how to live with the  ugliness of it.”  The man looked down at the ground. “I feel…filthy.”

Bard studied the despair in the man’s face with concern.  “Just give yourself some time, yeah?  I’m going to arrange for you to talk to someone, who knows how help with these things.”

“If you say so, My Lord.” he shrugged.

“We’ll talk about this, again.  Now, today I’m going to introduce you as an informant—“

“But—“

“It’s not a lie, Bert.  The details don’t matter.  You will not mention the other prisoners in the Mountain, is that clear?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Bard turned to Feren.  “Look after him, all right?”

“Yes, My Lord.”  The Commander saluted.

 

King Abdullon, two of the Princes, and their staff arrived in the courtyard at the stroke of ten.

After all the formal greetings, Bard invited everyone inside, “I hope you enjoyed a wonderful reunion with your granddaughter and new great-grandson?”

“Our tents flowed with tears of joy, King Bard, but today, the tears are different, as I’m sure you can understand.  After all the excitement, comes the mourning for the time that was lost.”

“I do understand.” Bard gave him a grim smile. 

“I must be frank, and say that I did not expect such careful consideration to be given to my people.  I am happy to be wrong in my assumptions.”

They continued their chatter, as they entered the Great Hall and seated themselves around the tables provided.

Bard remained standing.  “Thank you for coming, everyone.  I want to start by saying the reunions we witnessed in my Courtyard yesterday is something we will never forget.  Congratulations to you all, and we wish you and all the families every happiness.”

At this there was a round of applause, and the Haradrim bowed their heads in gratitude.

“Now, we need to tell you the entire story of how your children came to us, and Mistress Adila has volunteered as interpreter.  Adila?”

The woman stood up, and went to stand next to Bard.  She paid courtesy to all the rulers at the table, but said nothing.

“This all started with their discovery by the Dwarves.  Bofur, if you would begin, please?”

The Dwarf stood, and carefully recounted the tale of the village they stopped in, and how they cleared the place of the thugs who had taken over the town, and the discovery of the children in the brothel.  Then Dilna took up the next part in the tale, and gave her account of their early stay in the Mountain, care, and asking Bard and Thranduil for help.

Ermon then stood and spoke of his and Elénaril’s careful examinations, emphasizing that they put the children to sleep, while they determined and healed their highly personal injuries.  He then spoke of the pregnant girls, and what was involved in their care, and the delivery of the babies.  “I am sure that your Healers would agree that it is always best if a mother can be awake during a normal delivery, but these were clearly not normal circumstances, and it was a kindness to spare them.”

At this, Elénaril got up and handed a large packet of files to Abdullon’s Aide.  “These are detailed records of our findings written in Westron, Your Majesty.  I hope your own Healers find them useful.”

“I thank you,” Abdullon nodded, as he accepted the papers.

After the Healers finished, Bard introduced Indis. “Since the beginning, she has worked closely with the children to help them come to terms with their captivity, and helped to teach them how to look past them.  You will find no better Counselor than this Elf, and I urge you to heed her recommendations.”

Indis stood, and began:  “Over these past months, I have worked to earn the trust of the victims, and will continue that trust by keeping their confidence.  It is not important exactly what each of them experienced, but how to help them go on.  I strongly urge you, _not_ to press the children for details, as it could undo much of their progress.  If a child feels comfortable enough to volunteer such information, please, listen and offer quiet support, and emphasize the love and acceptance they need.  However justified, you must refrain from expressing your anger in front of them.”

She gave the Harad a warm smile.  “Mistress Adila has explained the close-knit family structure of your people, and I believe the love of each child’s _Gosa_ , will be biggest factor in the healing of their hearts and minds.  I have great hope for the future of these children.   There are many cultures in Middle Earth could learn from this, Your Majesty.” And she bowed with a show of respect.

Abdullon touched his heart, his mouth and his forehead.  “You are very kind.” 

Bard took a deep breath, and began the difficult part of the tale.  “I would ask His Majesty to provide another interpreter for the next part of this story, for I believe it would be cruel to ask Mistress Adila to recount events so soon after her tragic loss.”

Beside him, he could hear Adila’s sharp intake of breath, and when he turned to her, her eyes were moist.  “Mistress, thank you for your help, but we’ll take things from here.”

She curtsied, as she tried to keep her composure.  “Yes, My Lord.”

King Abdullon got up from his chair and came over to take her hand in both of his, and murmured what was obviously words of condolence, Adila nodded accepted graciously, but clearly was overcome.

Bard was still concerned.  “Indis? Could you go with her, and Tur could escort you both?”

“Of course, My Lord.” The Elven Counselor quickly got to her feet, and she and her son took Adila’s elbows, and supported her as she left.

Abdullon approved of Bard’s consideration. “My sons hear Westron better than they can speak it, and my Secretary is fluent, and can assume this duty.”  He signaled to the man, who stood at the ready.  “Please, continue.”

For the next half-hour, Bard, Thranduil and Dáin each took a turn and recounted the events of the 29th of May.  (As agreed privately that morning, Thranduil did not speak of his rescue by Celeborn, nor did they go into details of Tilda’s healing.  They simply said that he barely escaped the fire, and that Tilda nearly died from her heart condition, but they were grateful she did not.)

“And you are _certain_ the leader of this entire group is dead?” Prince Jammell asked, in heavily accented Westron.

“Yes.” Bard nodded.  “I killed him myself, and then threw his body into the fire.  Whoever this ‘Jarod’ really was, I assure you, he is no more.”

“And you think this same man was responsible for those children captured and taken to Rohan?  How can we be sure it was not the Rohirrim?”

“Look, I know you’ve had a difficult history with Rohan in the past,” Bard told the Crown Prince, “but they’ve made extraordinary efforts to destroy that activity within their borders, with Lothlórien’s help!  Why doesn’t that convince you?”

“Because those Elves and Men kept _no_ prisoners, though we were given… evidence of their executions.”  Jammell said, with not a little frustration in his voice.  “We are grateful for the recovery of the children from that area, but they have denied us the right to vengeance!”

“I urge you to forgive the Rohirrim, Your Royal Highness.”  Thranduil said.  “They simply could not spare the Men to watch over prisoners, nor did they have the food with which to feed them.  That area was hit hard with a plague, yet despite their grief, they still wanted help you!  It was the ruling of the Marshals to execute not only those who took the children, but those caught participating in…that type of activity, which, in my opinion, speaks highly of them.  These good people cherish children as much as you do, and to keep all those men alive would take food from the mouths of the innocent.  As it stands, my cousin, Celeborn is working with the Marshal of the Wold, to give them Aide and protection, for some time to come, which he would never do if he did not believe these people were honorable!”

“So, I was told,” the Harad King replied, with sideline glance at his heir.

“We have seven prisoners to hand over to you.” Bard told them.  “As we’ve said, many were killed when the Imposters came, and everyone in the woods, including their leader is dead.”

“Is the man who pretended to be me, also dead?”

“He is, thanks to Thangon, over there.” Bard gestured to the big dog, who was curled up by the firepit, taking a nap. “He alerted us right away that all was not it seemed, and Thranduil signaled for help.”

Abdullon looked down at Thangon skeptically.  “Your dog?”

“Thangon saved Adila’s life, by breaking your Imposter’s neck, before he had a chance to slice her throat.”

At the sound of his name being spoken, Thangon hauled himself up, stretched with a groan, and ambled over to put his head on Bard’s knee.

Abdullon smirked. “He is quite the animal.”

“Thank you.  He snores loud enough to shake the walls, but he’s a good judge of character, and if he likes you, he’ll give his life to save you.”  Bard patted Thangon’s head, got back to the subject at hand.

“Enough!” The Crown Prince had enough of this chatter.  “What about the rest of your prisoners?” Jammell demanded.  “You have more than seven, this we know! Why are you keeping them from us?”

 _Oh shit…_   Bard’s heart sank, and he saw Bert’s face go completely white.  How stupid and naïve could he be, to think they wouldn’t hear about the others?

Thranduil, bless him, interjected.  “Your Majesty, there are only seven men in Bard’s dungeons.  You are welcome to see for yourselves this minute, if that is your wish.”

Bard held his breath, and met Dáin’s eyes, who gave him a surreptitious nod.

At this, the two Princes, and Abdullon’s Secretary began to argue rapidly with the King in their own tongue.

“It’s true, Your Majesty!”

Everyone stopped their talking and looked at Bert, who was on his feet, and more than a little surprised to find himself doing so.

“Who are you?” the King of Harad asked him.

“My name is Bert, son of Bregor, from the Wold,” he began, and proceeded to tell the Harad all that he had originally told Bard after he was captured.

“I only joined up with The Boss to put food in my family’s mouths after the Plague.  Then I had to stay, or those bastards would kill my sisters and their kids, if I left! Lord Bard fears for my safety, but I _wanted to come,_ Sire!”  A tear fell from his eye. “The Boss – Jarod - is dead, but I know you’ve got more kids out there, and I want to help you get them back. After that,  you can hang me, or cut me into little pieces, I don’t care; just... put an end to this madness!”

Thangon’s head went up and he trotted over to sit in front of Bert.  He nudged under his hand, and began to whine. 

Bard sighed and turned to Abdullon.  “Despite what Bert has offered, I’ll _not_ allow him to be turned over to you.  This man is just as much a victim as the children, and he’s been so torn down by what he’s seen and was forced to do, he’s got a death wish!

 “Listen,” the King of Dale addressed the Princes directly.  “I understand your suspicion, but those bastards tried to destroy my own family, and I killed Jarod with my bare hands!  Do you honestly think I’d show mercy to Bert if he was one of them?”

 Bard and Thranduil exchanged nervous glances, as the King and Princes of Harad leaned their heads together, and spoke quietly in their own language.  Abdullon was clearly attempting to calm his sons, but in the end, he waved his hand and spoke a sharp rebuke.

“Please, you must excuse my sons.” Abdullon sighed.  “We all struggle with anger, and many of my people, my sons included, believe we are owed custody of _anyone_ involved, as a matter of honor.”

“And for me, it is a matter of honor to protect those I believe to be innocent. Bert helped us locate the hostages; we’d have never found them otherwise, and all six of them - _including the Princesses -_ would be dead!

 “You may have the seven prisoners, and whatever information Bert can provide for you regarding Gondor.  That is my final word.”  The King of Dale stood resolute, then the King of the Woodland Realm got to his feet, followed by the King and Queen Under the Mountain.

“If yer gonna take issue wi’ Bard, yer goin’ te hafta deal wi’ us all, Highness.” Dáin said, with and air of authority that would brook no argument.  “No’, do ye wanna take on the Northern Kingdoms, or do ye wanna listen te what the lad has te say, an’ get yer bairns back?  Either way, Ye’ll no’ be ‘armin’ a hair on ‘is ‘head!” The King Under the Mountain crossed his arms, as did his wife.

Abdullon stared into Bert’s eyes for several minutes, then regarded Bard carefully.  “I agree to your terms, King Bard.”  He looked over and gave Prince Jammell and his brother a severe look.  “ _As do my sons.”_

The Princes still looked angry, but they nodded their agreements.

Bard breathed a sigh of relief, and cleared his throat.  “Go ahead, lad.”

Bert swallowed nervously.  “Thank you, My Lord.  First of all, Ecthelion’s a good man, and he’ll make a good Steward, I think.  But his father, Turgon, is another story.  He’s eighty-eight years old, and the people of Gondor hardly see him!  Eredan’s the head of the Council there, and has the running of the City, despite everything Ecthelion tries to do.  There’s something fishy about it, because he’s managed to oust anyone on the Council who disagrees with him, and put his own people there.”

“So you think Turgon is held captive?” Bard asked.

“No one can prove it, because they bring him out just often enough to keep folks calm, but even when he’s in Court, he’ll only repeat what Eredan says.”

Thranduil’s eyes went wide.  “There is surely something amiss here.  The line of Stewards is a strong one, and none would be so doddering, even at such an advanced age.  They have Númenorean blood, and it is common for them to live to be one hundred, or older.”

“It’s worse than that, Lord Thranduil.  Eredan knows about Jarod – or ‘The Boss’ as we all called him – and I think he’s a partner in that whole business down South.”

Bard heard Dáin cursed under his breath.  Thranduil looked alarmed.

Bert swallowed.  “Your Majesty,” he addressed Abdullon, “I can give you the names and locations of all the ‘Pleasure Houses’ – I’m sorry, but that’s what they call ‘em – in and around Minas Tirith, but I don’t see how your men could go in there and get your kids, without it turning into a full-fledged war, and the first ones to be killed will be the kids.”

 “Bert is correct,” Thranduil told them.  “If a large group of Haradrim attempt to kill off the Steward’s Secretary and several members of their Council, they would call out the entire army and kill every last one of you, and it would guarantee the deaths of all of your children, and whoever else they have forced into that life.” 

Abdullon rubbed his forehead, and his sons looked ill.  “I am afraid I agree with that assessment,” Crown Prince Jammell said, quietly, “yet we cannot sit by and do nothing.”

“I’m afraid it might be worse than that.”  Bard’s mouth was set in a grim line.  “There was more to this ‘Jarod’ than you know, Your Majesty. Thranduil, I think we should explain what we discovered about him.”

“What do you mean?” Abdullon asked.  “Which enemy?”

“I agree.” The Elvenking told him.  “One moment, please,” Thranduil signaled to Feren, then whispered to him in Sindarin.  The Commander left, and within seconds, Elvish harmony could be heard in the Courtyard.  “My Elves are praying, to shield us from listening ears.  Please understand,” he addressed the Harad contingent, “you must not speak of this outside this Hall, or your people could be in danger.”

Abdullon’s eyes widened, but he nodded his head, and issued a quick order to his sons and his staff and guards.  “We have sworn not to repeat your words, King Thranduil, though I must demand an explanation.”

“Eighteen months ago, the Evil One, the servant of Melkor, was recently banished from his holdings in Dol Guldur, South from here, and has taken up residence in Mordor once more.  He is seductive, cunning, and can compel others to bend to his will, and turn them into _Thralls._   This “Jarod,” was one of them, and there may be others.”

“How do you know this?”

“I was given a message from Lord Celeborn.  His wife, the Lady Galadriel discovered his true nature, and gave us instructions to destroy it.  When Bard killed Jarod, we burned his body to release the evil spirit, then we sang our most powerful prayer to Varda, Queen of the Stars, to dissapate it completly. 

“We also worship the _Varinēri_.”  King Abdullon interjected. We call her _Kewakibiti Nigišiti_ in our language.”

“That is well, for without the burning and the prayers, this spirit would simply possess someone else, and the danger would still be great. 

Bert looked confused. “Beggin’ your pardon, but you’re saying something like that took over The Boss?”

“Yes, he was a _Thrall_ – a servant of the Enemy.”  Thranduil told him.

“I believe it, My Lord.  The Boss had a way of... gettin’ into your head, and tell you what you want...  He made me _think_ things, I’d never want to do, but I did ‘em, because I had no choice!  And I remember wondering if Turgon himself was going through what I did.”

The Elvenking looked at Bert with intense eyes.  “Are you saying you think this ‘Eredan’ might be the same type of creature?”

“It would make sense.  The few times I saw Steward Turgon in the Hall of Kings, he’s always looking to Eredan, and that bastard’s forever whispering in his ear.  Ecthelion hates his guts, that much I know for sure, and wants him gone, but Turgon won’t hear of it.  A lot of people hate Eredan.”

“If that is true, more than Gondor would be in trouble.” Thranduil said quietly.

Bard was speechless, and he looked over and saw Dáin close his eyes.  If the Enemy was trying to start a War with the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, he’d found the perfect way to do it.  There would be no Final War, because he’d have control over so much of the world, he wouldn’t need one.

And the North would be taken.

Bard swore under his breath, and rubbed his forehead.  This danger goes way beyond all those kids...”

“What are you saying?”  Abdullon asked loudly, as his Secretary frantically interpreted.  “What about our children?”

“No, you misunderstand me,” Bard quickly tried to calm things down.   “I think the attack on your people, and ours, is more than wanting to enslave your children.  What if these kidnappings were all part of a bigger plan try to start a war with Gondor and Rohan?  What if you and your children are pawns in a bigger game, with Sauron trying to control the pieces?”

“How so?”

 “What better way to break the spirits of Free People but by hurting our children?  What better way to cause such uncontrollable rage?  _It’s_ _that_ _rage_ _he_ _wants_ , because it’s how he takes control, then uses us, don’t you see?  Your country borders the land of the Evil One, as does Gondor.  It makes sense he would target those countries the hardest!”

“Then how do we possibly rescue our children?”

“Bert and Thranduil are right.  They key to all this is to free Turgon from Eredan’s grasp.  If the Steward can be free, then he’ll gladly shut down that whole business and hand over your kids, without any harm done!”

But who can free the Steward?  You say yourself you needed the help from magic; we do not practice such things!”

“It would take very powerful magic, Your Majesty,” Thranduil agreed.  “Fortunately, we know of one who can help.  I advise we contact him immediately, and wait for his instructions.”

Within an hour, an urgent message was composed, and sent off with a Raven, plus two others, to guard the messenger.  All said a silent prayer that the birds could locate him quickly.

 

Two days later, the Raven returned, landed on the dais and stuck out its leg.  The message said:

> _Rec’d messg.  Suspicions correct-- MOST URGENT!  Will arrve in 4 days to Dale. See if guests can remn until then. Say nothing - Ears everywhere!!!_

There was no signature, but the “G” rune said it all.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 6 th of July 2943 T.A.**

“You’re doing it, again, sweetheart.”

Rhian came back to herself, and looked over at Ben, who was sitting in his chair, smiling at her.  It was late in the evening, and after a day full of working and taking care of Darryn, they were enjoying the quiet.

“Doing what?” she asked, but she knew.  Her knitting was sitting in a pile on her lap, and she had been staring off into space.  Again.

“What’s on your mind, Rhian? Are you all right?”

“I’m good, Da.  Don’t worry.”

Ben put down his book, took off his spectacles, and studied his daughter carefully.  “Are you upset about Evan?  You seem like you’ve stayed friends, but do you regret breaking it off?”

“Not at all, Da.  Why would you think that?”

“I saw him squiring that young teacher around the Market the other day.”

“You mean Eryn?”’ Rhian smiled.  “Good for him!”

“You’re not upset?” Ben asked.

“No.  In fact, I was the one who steered him in her direction.”

“Then what were you thinking on, love?”

“I just keep thinking of something he said the day we talked.”

“What’s that?”

“Something Evan seemed to understand before I did.  He said that my heart knows what it wants, it was just waiting for my head to catch up.” 

“Which is?”

Rhian put her knitting aside, and came over to sit on Ben’s foot stool.  “ _I am_ in love, Da, but not with Evan.   I just…  don’t know how you’re going to feel about it, that’s all.”

The City Planner tilted his head.  “Does this young man love you back?”

“Very much.  I guess he’s loved me all along, but knew I wasn’t ready.”  She took a deep breath.  “The thing is, he’s not a Man at all, Da.  He’s an Elf, and that could mean something different.”

“An Elf you say?” Ben leaned back in his chair and intertwined his fingers on his belly.  “But you say this boy – this Elf - loves you, too?”

She nodded. 

“Has he told you this?”

“No. Well, yes, in a way, but Lord Thranduil says it’s true.  I went to see him right after the Vigil, and told him what I saw that night.  I was afraid it might be just a dream, because I’d broken things off with Evan and didn’t like the…I don’t know…empty space.”

“What did the Elf King tell you?”

“Well, when told him I had feelings for Daeron, and I might be in love with him—“

_“Daeron?”_

Rhian’s eyes filled with tears, and she nodded.  “Aye, Da.  I’ve always loved him as a friend, but now, I think about us, and what it would be like to be his wife, and…” she looked up at Ben shyly.  “You know.  The way you think about Hannah, and I’ve seen her look at you, too.  That’s how I feel about Daeron.”

“But Daeron hasn’t said anything to you himself.”

“No.  And he wouldn’t, either.  All this time, he’s been keeping to himself, waiting and hoping…”  Rhian covered her mouth with her fingers, with the joy of it. “He did that for me, so I could discover things for myself.”

“And you’re _sure_ Thranduil didn’t tell you any of this, until you told him of your own feelings, right?”

“I know what you’re worried about, and no, this isn’t obligation, I promise.  Lord Thranduil asked me the same thing, and suggested I think about it for a while.  He didn’t want me to say anything to Daeron, until I was completely sure.”

She leaned forward and put her hand on Ben’s knee.  “And I am sure, Da!  I really love him, but I don’t want to do anything until I have your blessing.  You like Daeron, don’t you?”

“I’ve always thought the world of that boy, and if you think he’ll make you happy, then I honestly can’t think of a better son-in-law.”

 “Thank you, Da!” She flew into his arms.  “Thank you!”

“Now, now…” Ben cleared his throat.  “If I have to lose you, sweetheart, he’s a good lad.”

“You’ll never lose me!  No matter what happens, I’ll always be your girl, and Darryn will always be your Grandson.” She smiled through her tears.  “You’re stuck with us, Da, and don’t you forget it.”

 

***************

**LETTERS FROM DALE**

**To Celeborn from Thranduil:**

> _To my dear Cousin,_
> 
> _I’m happy to report that we are doing very well here.  Tilda, as always, sends her love, as you will see from her letters, which she has said are “secret.”  (I suspect she does not wish me to correct her grammar or spelling.)  Bard and I have recently met with the King of Harad, whose granddaughter, as it turns out, was one of our refugees, and presented him with a great-grandson._
> 
> _Yesterday, we bid the Harad children a sad, but very fond, farewell, as they left with their fathers to return home.  The rest of the party will remain here on other business, of which I will speak to you at a later time._
> 
> _Your Galadhrim have performed admirably, as always, and it is sad to think their year with us is almost over.  I am told that my newly-promoted-Captain (Elion) will be bringing home his betrothed, Warden Airen.  I gladly accept this new addition to my Kingdom, but I was thinking perhaps we could arrange a trade?_
> 
> _It would seem that one of my Guardians by the name of Ivran, has fallen in love with one of your Archers.  I became aware of this romance when Ivran was shot while protecting my daughters.  Cwën was constantly at his bedside, and I confess he was making the most of it.  Apparently, he likes being fussed over – at least by her._
> 
> _I do not know what their plans are, in truth, but I have given my blessing, and if your require your Archer's services there, then I will release Ivran from his duties, with the option to recall him should the need become great.  Your Cwën is exceptionally talented, and played a key role in saving the lives of my daughters the night of the attack._
> 
> _Much affection to you and your lovely wife, and hope to see you soon, if our duties can (ever) permit such a thing._
> 
> _With my very best regards, I remain_
> 
> _Your faithful cousin and friend,_
> 
> _Thranduil_

**To Galadriel from Tilda:**

> _Deer Gallerdil and Cellebron_
> 
> _How are you.  I am very, very good!   I can do all kinds of stuff, now.  The Dwarfs gave us some chalk, and Alis and Dafina came over with there Da and we drew all kinds of stuff on the stones in the Cortyard.  Then we played this game where we drew sqares and hoppt on one foot.  And I cood do it, and wasn’t tirred at all!_
> 
> _I swiched rooms with my sister to help me not have bad dreems and I like it, ecsept when Tarriels cat almost had kittens under my bed and she made creeepy noises.  I screemed and ran and got my Ada and Da.  Ferrien had six kittens tho, and theyr really cute._
> 
> _The kids from Harid went back home and I felt reel sad, but was happy too, caus they get to see their Mams again._
> 
> _Da said the Wardans will go home in 8 more weeks.  I’m sad.  I like them and dont want them to leave but Da says Darrin will come back and the rest of them, so I’ll be really glad about that, but I like Roomil!  He’s my friend!  Cant he stay?  Pleese?_
> 
> _Anyway, I like summer.  I miss Esta a really lot, thogh.  It still feels weerd without her.  But the kittens help._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _tilda._
> 
> _Ps  I drew you a piksure.  I hope you like it._
> 
> _And tell Cellebron I miss him, too._

 

**To Daeron from Rhian:**  

> _Dear Daeron,_
> 
> _I can’t believe how nervous I am to write all this - my heart is pounding, my hands are sweaty, and my stomach is doing flips!_
> 
> _But I’ve taken some time, and given this a lot of thought, to be absolutely sure of things, because to do anything else would be cruel.  Oh, Daeron, the last thing in the world I’d ever want to be is cruel to you!_
> 
> _Your flowers are in full bloom here, and they are the most beautiful Irises I’ve ever seen! I had no idea they could be like that, but isn’t that just like you, to make sure I get something so lovely?  I think of you every time I see them, and have put some of them in a vase by my bed, and even on my desk at work which means I am thinking of you all the time._
> 
> _All right; enough stalling.  I just need to come out with it…_
> 
> _I went with Sigrid and Tauriel to the Silent Vigil the Elves held here, and I think it was one of the most important things that has ever happened to me._
> 
> _I saw something so wonderful that night, I couldn’t believe it was real, then all of a sudden I knew I wanted it to be, more than anything in the whole world..._
> 
> _I saw you, Daeron!  I _ _saw you, and we were together, and you kissed me.  Then I knew I want you to kiss me over and over and over, as often as you can, for the rest of our lives._
> 
> _I’ve always loved you as a friend, but when did that turn into something more?  I can’t really say.  Maybe it was always there, but I needed to be ready for it._
> 
> _I went to Lord Thranduil, who he told me how you felt about me.  Please, please- don’t be angry with him!  You _ _have to understand…I’d just gone through this powerful thing, and didn’t have a clue what do do next!_
> 
> _I was happy, but I was_ _scared out of my mind that you might not feel the same way, and I started bawling all over the poor Elvenking.  What else could he do, with this blubbering mess of a girl, but to tell her what she wants to hear?  Lord Thranduil _ _only told me of your feelings because he was afraid I’d turn away from what was going on, and Oh! I’m so glad he did!_
> 
> _Still, maybe you don’t even feel the same way anymore..._
> 
> _Maybe you’d rather just forget the whole thing._
> 
> _Considering that I’ve been oblivious to your feelings for so long, I wouldn’t blame you.  I thought about that a lot, too, and it broke my heart to think you’d been hurting like that, and I’m so, so sorry!_
> 
> _But the thing is, even if you’ve changed your mind about all of this, I still need to tell you how I feel._
> 
> _I’m in love with you, Daeron, and I’m praying with all my might you still feel the same about me.  If that’s true, I want you to come home, then see what we can be together._
> 
> _I figured I would lay it all out now, because then you can just write me and say you’d rather not, and we could both have some privacy to deal with any awkwardness, and to be honest, so can have time to accept the truth, and keep what dignity I have left._
> 
> _But if you do want me, please, please make sure of it before you say so.  I’d rather be hurt now, and get over it, than even more in the long run.  _
> 
> _Love (however way you want me)_
> 
> _Rhian_
> 
>  


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We backtrack a bit, to see our Kings bid the kiddies farewell.  The Harad King gives Tilda an idea, and our boys enjoy a little private sojourn.
> 
> Rhian talks with Hannah and Indis, tells them what’s on her mind, and Gandalf arrives with a plan.
> 
> Letters from the Golden Wood!  What will Daeron say to Rhian?

 

“I love you. I want to do everything with you. I want to marry you and have kids with you and get old with you. And then I want to die the day before you do, so I never have to live without you.”

** ― Stacey Jay, Juliet Immortal **

 

**City of Dale, 4 th of June 2943 T.A.**

While the Kings and Princes awaited Gandalf’s arrival, there was no reason why the children couldn’t go home as planned.  Dáin and Thranduil even offered to help escort them to their borders.

  “After all those bairns ‘ave been through, I don’ want te see anythin’ ‘appen.  Let’s get them home safe, Aye?”

“It would also send a clear message, Your Majesty.”  Thranduil seconded.  “Should anyone consider continuing this practice, they will face the wrath Elves and Dwarves as well as Men.” 

 Abdullon considered this, “I accept.  My son, Prince Muharrem, will lead the caravan.  Princes Jammell and Azimullah will remain with me, while we await the arrival your… how do you say?  Weessard?”

“Wizard.”  Bard corrected.  “After they leave, you and your family are welcome to stay here in Dale.  We have a large house set aside for visitors such as yourself, complete with staff and we can make arrangements to house your Guards, either with you, or in a house nearby.”

“I think I would like that, but we have our own servants with us, if you do not mind.”

“Of course.  Lady Hilda will meet with your Secretary to make the arrangements.”

 

The night before the children’s departure, a feast was held in the Great Hall, with speeches, toasts, and an abundance of well-wishes.  Thranduil looked on proudly as Tauriel took Sigrid and Bain around the tables to speak to each child, and personally wish them a safe journey, and offered hugs and handshakes to those who had become personal friends.

 Tilda sat on her _Ada’s_ lap and peppered the King of Harad with questions: How many kids does he have? Does he live in a tent, or a palace?  How big are the Oliphants?  Do people ride them? Does he have any?  How many?  Can you ride the Lions, too?  Why not?  What are Apes? 

Abdullon patiently answered the little girl, until Thranduil gently suggested she  might be pestering the King.

“Nonsense,” he said.  “Your daughter is curious, and that is an excellent quality.” He smiled at Tilda.  “Never be afraid to ask questions, child.  The more you learn, the more you can teach others.”

“I’m sorry I was afraid before,” Tilda said.  “I think you’re nice.”

“And I think you are very brave,” Abdullon touched his forehead and bowed his head.  “You remind me of one of my daughters, when she was your age.  Nuisha is her name, and she, too was curious about the world.”

“How old is she now?”

“She is in her thirty-first year, and instructs young children.”

“Like at school?  I go to school, here!  Miss Eryn, that’s my teacher, she’s really nice.”

“Your Miss Eryn is fortunate to have such a fine pupil.” Abdullon smiled.  “Perhaps, one day, _you_ will become a teacher.”

“What do you think, _Tithen Pen_?” Thranduil smiled at the little girl in her lap.  “Would you want to teach children?”

She nodded shyly.  “Da says we all have to have jobs, even though I’m a Princess. My sister Sigrid wants to be a Healer and Bain’s got to be King, so he’s got one, but I don’t know yet. Teaching might be fun.”

“It would, my _Tithen Pen_ , but remember: teachers must spell _all_ _their_ _words_ correctly.”

“I am afraid that is true, Tilda.” Abdullon chuckled.

“Oh.” Tilda drooped.  “I _hate_ spelling!”

 

***************

 

After the feast, the Harad brought several large wagons covered with thick blankets into the Courtyard.  The first one was uncovered to reveal a large load of burlap sacks with a distinctive fragrance. 

 _“Buna!”_ Adila and some of the older Harad children clapped their hands with delight.  “It’s _Buna!”_

The King of Dale stepped down off the dais.  “Whatever it is, it smells wonderful.”

“It is called ‘coffee’ in Westron, and is dark drink that one brews, like tea,” Thranduil explained.  “I have only had it a few times, it was quite good, especially with a little milk.  ”

“I confess,” Abdullon said, “I was going to give to _you,_ King Bard, but I think I have a better idea.”  To Adila’s surprise, he walked over to her, took her hands, and spoke to her softly in Haradish.  She looked shocked, then a slow smile began to creep across her face, then she nodded her head and smiled.

“Forgive my rudeness, I beg you.”  Abdullon touched his forehead and bowed.  “Adila and I spoke privately this morning, and she expressed a desire to leave your fair City and return with us.”

“If that’s what she needs, I’ll not stand in her way,” Bard offered.  “She deserves my blessing in whatever she wants to do.”

“But that is the difficulty, you see.  I do not believe she _truly_ wishes to be with us, as much as she seeks to run from her grief.  I understand this, as I lost my dearest wife just a year ago.  I have explained to her that she must stay where her children are happy, and that her sorrow will follow her, no matter where she goes.”

“I am afraid that is true, Mistress,” Thranduil gave her a compassionate look. 

Abdullon continued.  “I would also like such a fine woman to remain with you, to represent the best of my country.  To that end, I have gifted these beans, along with the equipment to Adila, wife of Bron, in hopes that she will open a small place such as we have in all over Harad, where people can gather and enjoy themselves over a cup of _Buna._ The lady has agreed to this, with your permission of course.”

“You have it.” Bard smiled.  “I think it would be perfect.”

 “Oh, how wonderful!” Hilda ran over and threw her arms around Adila, with Hannah close behind her.  “I’m so glad you’ll stay, love.  It would break my heart to see you leave.”

“That’s right,”  Hannah squeezed the Harad woman’s shoulders.  “I’ll have Ben build you a cute little place in the Market and we’ll get you whatever you need.”

“Allow me,” King Abdullon turned to his Secretary, who laid a small chest at her feet.  “In honor of your service to our children, and to our people, _Imebēti_ Adila, I would like to present you with a small token of my esteem.”  He leaned down to open it, to reveal gold coins, silver, and several jewels. 

While not immensely rich, Adila was now a woman of considerable means.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for such a generous gift!”  She prostrated herself in Harad fashion. 

“Please, child.” Abdullon bent down and helped her to her feet.  “You have paid a terrible price for your kindness.” He put his hand under her chin. “No amount of money could replace your husband, yet I will not let your sorrow to go unnoticed, nor will I allow you to struggle to support your children.  This you must accept, Adila,” he smiled, “not from a King, but a fellow _Mīsiti,_ for I loved my wife, and I know the depths of your grief.”

At that Hilda became teary, and Hannah, who didn’t want her friends to feel alone, joined her.  Adila looked over at Bard, who nodded his approval, because he couldn’t really speak, just then.  Thranduil’s face remained still, but he reached up and squeezed Bard’s elbow.

But Abdullon wasn’t finished.  “I would also like to thank you, Lord Bard, and your City for what you have done.  When we received news that our children were housed safely in the City of Bells, I commissioned this to be made, in hopes that when you hear it, you will think fondly of your young visitors and their time here.” 

At his signal, the cover from the other wagon was pulled away, to reveal a large bell, shined and polished to perfection.

Everyone on the dais gasped, as Bard walked over to the wagon with and traced his hand over the inscription, as he read it aloud:

_“In the Gravest Danger,_

_Hope Found Us._

_From the Deepest Darkness,_

_We Were Brought Back to the Light._

_Thank you, Men, Elves, and Dwarves of the North,_

_From the Children of Harad and Their Grateful Families,_

_For Drying Our Tears,_

_And Healing Our Hearts._

Below this was listed the names of every single child that was rescued last October.

 

“Oh, my…” Bard said, softly.  “This is…”

“I believe my husband wishes to express his deepest appreciation,” Thranduil said, with a smile, as everyone burst into applause. 

“Yes, thank you,” Bard nodded.  “We'll install it in the East Bell Tower, to honor our friends there.”

But the King of Harad wasn’t done.  “Your new City has gone to great expense to care for my people, and I insist upon paying that debt.” He clapped his hands and three more chests were placed on the dais.  When they were opened, the crowd let out a collective gasp. 

“I can’t accept this!  This far more than any cost we—”

“Bard,” Thranduil said, gently, as he noticed Adila’s face, and she quickly stepped in.

She came to stand between them, and spoke to Abdullon quickly in their language, then turned to the Kings, “To refuse a gift in my country is the gravest of insults.  I have explained that you are merely being modest, and this is simply a misunderstanding.  It is important to my people to accept any gift, even a compliment, with an expression of thanks.”

Bard looked sheepish.  “My apologies, Abdullon.  You’ve been unbelievably generous, and I didn’t mean to cause a problem.” He bowed and saluted.  “My people happily accept your gift and it will be used to serve our people in your name.”

Dáin was also presented with a small chest of rare jewels from the mines of Harad, and a necklace for Queen Dilna made from such stones, as thanks for the discovery and rescue of their children. Both were delighted. 

 

The next morning, there was a Parade through the streets of Dale.  At the head, Abdullon rode next to Bard, and behind them, Thranduil next to Dáin, followed by the wagons, then the entire Harad escort.  Two wagons containing Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur and twenty other Dwarves followed, and bringing up the rear was Feren, riding beside Rúmil, who led his Galadhrim, and fourteen members of the Army of the Woodland Realm. They were an impressive sight, as the sun reflected the polished armor.

As was the custom, the people of Dale lined the streets, to bid the Harad children a very fond, and tearful farewell.

The Harad children had huge smiles on their faces, as they waved, and called out to various friends.  The women waved, and blew their noses.  The children ran up and handed them flowers, and wished them a safe trip. The men raised their hands, and said a gruff goodbye.  Constable Tom could hardly keep his composure, Rod from the Long Lake Inn had his arm around his wife, who was sobbing into his shoulder, and the Baker buried his face in his apron, and accidentally covered his face with flour.     

When the Parade stopped at the East Gate, Bard raised his hand to offer his blessings for a safe trip, followed by Thranduil who offered a prayer in Sindarin.

The four Kings, the Princes and their Guards watched the caravan until it disappeared in the distance, and with a sigh, rode back into a rather subdued City.

 

***************

 

“What a day,” Bard moaned, as he flopped onto the bed that night.  “Do you realize how much money was in those chests?  There’s more than enough for the Widows and Orphans, the work on the Castle won’t put a strain on the City’s budget, and now we can think about rebuilding Laketown within the next few years!”

Thranduil looked down at his husband and began to laugh.

“What?”

“Do you recall that day in my tent, when you were convinced you could not be a King?” He crawled into bed, and stroked Bard’s cheek.  “You were born for this, _Meleth nîn_ , and a credit to all those who came before you.”

“From you, that really is a compliment.” Bard kissed the palm of the Elf’s hand.  “Funny how things end up, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.” 

“Where would we be if Bert hadn’t told us what he knew?  I’m sure much of what he said was told to him by the other prisoners, but what made him so driven to tell us everything?”

“I believe that meeting was _meant_ to take place, and whatever moved Bert to speak was sent from the Valar.  This will work out; I am sure of it.”

“From your mouth to Varda’s ears…” 

Thranduil gazed into his husband’s face, then kissed him.  “You are doing it again,”  Thranduil nipped his husband’s lower lip.

“Doing what?”

“’Kinging’ in the bedroom.” He smiled, and nibbled on Bard’s earlobe.  “You are very, very naughty, Bowman.”

 “Are you trying to discipline me?”

“Is it working?” Thranduil kissed his way down the Bowman’s neck and began to pinch his nipple.

“If you keep that up, I’ll do anything you want…”

“Good.  Roll over.”

Bard did as he was told, as the Elf reached for the oil, and began to tease his husband until he was babbling beyond the ability to form coherent words.  Soon, he was slowly entering him, and began a rapid pace.

When the Bard moaned with pleasure, Thranduil laughed.  “You like that, do you?”

“Oh, aye,” was his answer, followed by a yelp of pleasure, as Thranduil massaged his prostate.

_“Melin gi phuithad…”_

“Good, cause I loved to be fucked by you,” the Bowman croaked.

“Mmmm,” the Elf whimpered in reply, and grabbed Bard’s hips to get the angle just right, and quickened his pace.  When he knew he was close, he leaned over and began to stroke Bard’s cock and massage his balls.

Bard was shrieking with pleasure, as Thranduil nipped his earlobe and whispered.  “Come, Bard.  Come for me, now!”

They came at exactly the same time, and cried out as they both saw the bright colors and held each other as they slowly dissipated.  For a long time after, they both trembled from the power of it.

Bard rested in forehead on his hands and his voice was muffled by the mattress.  “Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but I’m surprised we lived through that.” 

Thranduil laughed, as he draped himself across Bard’s back and tried to catch his breath.  “I can think of no better way to leave this life.”

“Will it be like this in Valinor, do you think?”

“I look forward to finding out.  In the meantime, we’ll try to struggle through.”

“I’m game if you are.”  Bard sighed.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 7 th of July 2943 T.A.**

Turamarth opened his door to find Rhian standing there with a basket of muffins.

 _“Suilad, Mellon nîn!_ That smells good!”

“They just came out of the oven.” She grinned.  “I heard your mother was here?”

“She is.  Please, come in.”

Indis stood up and kissed both Rhian’s cheeks.  “Hello, _gwinnig_.  You look radiant.”

“Well, I feel radiant, actually.  Could I talk to you?”

“Do you wish me to leave?” Tur offered. 

“No, please; I’d like to speak to both of you, if I could.” She sat down nervously.

“Would you like some tea, Rhian?” Tur offered.

“Yes, but could we have it after?  I have to tell you both something and I need to say it before I lose my nerve.” Rhian’s hands worried themselves.  “I didn’t see you at the Vigil.”

“I have been covering Ivran’s shifts, so I was at the Castle.  My mother joined me in the Courtyard for the prayers.”

“I wondered.  Anyway, I…  something happened that night, and I went to talk to Lord Thranduil to make sure, and I’ve waited a bit, to see if I was just being flighty…”

“Child, what is wrong?”  Indis asked with growing concern.

“Well, nothing is really _wrong._   I… wrote Daeron a letter, and I thought I’d wait until I heard from him to tell you, but I can’t stand it!  I’ve got to talk about it, and even if he says no, I think you should know…”

“Know what, Rhian?  Is this about Evan?  If he hurt you, I will—”

“No, nothing like that.  In fact, we stopped seeing each other last month.”

 _“He rejected you?”_ He was on his feet in a second.

“NO!”

“Turamarth,” Indis said quietly, as she studied Rhian’s face.  “Sit back down, and let the young lady finish.”

The Guardian took his seat, but remained wary.

“We’re just friends, Tur.  It was never more than that, but still, I’m glad I went out with him.  It showed me how much better I am, and that I…want more.  I’m ready to have more with someone, just not him.  Evan was great about it, and we’re still friends, but I…” she blew out her breath.  “I want someone else.”

Turamarth looked between his mother, who was trying not to smile, and Rhian, who looked as nervous as she did when he first met her.  “I do not understand,” he murmured.

“Oh, _Ion nîn_ ,” Indis sighed and rolled her eyes.  “That is because you are _male,_ and naturally obtuse.  I think what our dear friend is trying to tell us, is that she is in love with my nephew, and your cousin.”  The Counselor gave her a wide smile.  “Is that not correct?”

Slowly it dawned on the Guardian.  “You mean…”

Rhian nodded.

 “You love Daeron?  You have fallen in love with him?”

Rhian blushed and nodded, then began to giggle.  “I‘ve kept it to myself for a little while, but he’s all I think about and I…  I just want to be with him, always.”

“Does he know this?”

“I wrote him weeks ago, but haven’t heard back yet.” She looked at the Elves.  “What if he decides he doesn’t want to be with me?  I keep thinking of all the things that could go wrong, but—”

Turamarth was across the room, swept Rhian off the chair hugged her.   _“MA!  Edregol vêr, Rhian!_ This is the best news!”

“So, you think he’ll want me?” she asked, when he put her down.

 _“Will he want you?”_ Tur laughed.  “He has _always_ wanted you!”

“So Thranduil said, but…” she looked at him nervously.  “How many people knew about this?  I feel uncomfortable that you all had this big secret about me, and...”

“Please let go of the poor girl.”  Indis extricated the young girl from Tur’s arms, and led her to the sofa, where she took her hands.  “It is true, child.  We kept a secret from you, and I hope you can forgive us. That was the way Daeron wanted it, but we did it for you, too.”

“But why didn’t he—”

The _Elleth_ cupped her cheek. “Search your feelings, Rhian; you already know the answer to that, do you not?”

“I suppose I do.  He wanted me to be free to work it out for myself.  But what if I disappointed everyone?  You’re my friends, and I’d lose you!”

“No, you would not.  We care about you for _yourself,_ Rhian, _not_ because of who loves you.  Daeron deserves the same.  Tell me, are your feelings borne of gratitude, because he done so much for you?”

“I’ve been thinking hard about that, because that was what I was afraid of…”

“What do you think about, when he enters your mind?” Indis probed gently.

“Well, I picture us in my garden, or walking in the woods holding hands.  Watching Darryn grow up together, and maybe having more children...  I see us in my house, doing simple  things, like smiling at me over dinner, or reading a book, or teaching Darryn how to do things.  I think about waking up with him,” she blushed, “and…well…I think about going to bed with him, too.”

Rhian looked at Indis in earnest.  “I know it’s real, because none of those things have to do with rescuing me, don’t you see? I don’t love him because he’s a hero.  I love him, because he’s smart, and kind and funny….  And I dream about ordinary, everyday things, that add up to life with Daeron, and I want that more than anything in the world!

“Of course, I’m grateful to him, but if that was going to make me love him, I think it would have happened a while ago, and probably would be fizzled out by now.”  A tear fell from her eye.  “It’s not infatuation, it’s more than that!  And I’d  _never_ hurt Daeron, by saying anything until I knew for sure, don’t you see?”

Indis took the girl in her arms.  “Oh, _hênig_ …  I am filled with happiness for both of you!”

Turamarth’s throat tightened, as he kissed Rhian’s temple.  “I will get us that tea, now.” 

In the privacy of the kitchen, he leaned his back against the wall, let out a sigh and said a private prayer of thanks.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 8 th of July 2943 T.A.**

“Stars, I hope that’s Gandalf!  Bard and Thranduil looked at each other as the bells went off, signaling the approach of a visitor.  “He was supposed to be here two days ago!”

The King of Dale got up from his desk and followed his Elf out to the dais, where Thranduil sent quick instructions to a Guard to summon the Harad King and his sons, and sent Turamarth to get Bert, who had been temporarily set up in the spare room of his and Rúmil’s apartment. 

Within a few minutes, Gandalf’s horse appeared in the courtyard, and finally came to a stop.  The Wizard dismounted, and murmured to his horse what appeared to be a spell to ensure the animal’s comfort during their long journey.  He handed the reins over to a Guard and walked up the steps. 

“Well, you two look considerably better than the last time I saw you,” the Wizard grinned.  “How’s your leg, Bard?”

“Good as new, thanks to Ermon’s stubbornness and Hilda’s threats.”

“Not to mention a husband who nearly lost his life trying to heal you,” Thranduil smirked, and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, that.” Bard winked, then shook Gandalf’s hand.  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said softly. “Did you have trouble on the road?”

“Not at all, dear boy.  I’m sorry for the delay, but I was making some…special arrangements, as you will soon see.”

 “Glad to hear it.” Bard said. “We’ll go into the conference room, as soon as everyone arrives.”  Just then, the Harad party approached.  “Ah, there he is…   Gandalf, may I introduce you to his Illustrious Majesty, Abdullon IV, King of Harad and his sons?”

The Wizard bowed and offered a perfect Harad salute, and said, _“Melikami; kibirih.  Besibisebachini se‘ati ānidi kokebi yaberali.”_

 _Oh, you clever Wizard,_ Bard thought with a smile.  This meeting was important, and Gandalf was making it plain from the start that there would be no chance of miscommunication.

“And this is Bert, son of Bregor in the Wold, the source of the information we obtained, Mithrandir,” Thranduil introduced the man, who arrived beside Tur.  Shall we go into the conference room?  We cannot be overheard.”

“Lead the way, Thranduil.  I need to know the entire story.”

Once they were seated around the table, Bard gave orders that they were not to be disturbed, then  Thranduil raised his hand and spoke a Silencing Spell. 

“Now, Bert, is it?” Gandalf turned to him.  “Tell me everything you know; the slightest detail could make all the difference.”

The Man nervously began the story of his recruitment and his efforts to leave, once he found out the truth of this operation.  “They knew the names of my family, and their ages, which told me they had spies right in my village, ready to kill them if I so much as breath a word.”

“And you say this is why so many prisoners committed suicide?  To keep their families safe?”

“Aye.  If they’re dead, no one could accuse them of betraying The Boss.”

“Go on,” Gandalf looked at the man intensely.

And Bert did.  His version today was filled with much more vivid detail, which was difficult to listen to, particularly for the Harad, but there were lists of names, dates places, descriptions of men and those who were complicit in local governments. 

As it turned out, Bert was more than just an enforcer, he had held an administrative position, which made him the perfect source for taking down this enterprise.

“I should have had someone write all this down, as he was telling it,” Bard apologized.

“Begging your pardon, but I’ve been working on a list.” Bert reached into his tunic and pulled out a thick stack of folded paper.  “I was thinkin’ it might come in handy.”

 _Bless you, Bert…._ Bard stole a glance at his Elf.  He must have written down every scrap of information he could glean from his companions!

“I’ll take those, lad.” Gandalf reached his hand out to take the papers, and as he shuffled through them, he exclaimed.  “It’s all here…  Bert, you have just increased the odds of our success by a thousand-fold!”

“Oh, it wasn’t really anything special, sir…”

“You have probably prevented a World War;  I’d say that was remarkable, my boy!” The Grey Pilgrim laughed.

“What do my sons and I do?” Abdullon asked. 

The Wizard sighed.  “As hard as it is, you must _wait._   To do otherwise, could get the victims killed.  Your best chance of protecting them is to wait.”

The Crown Prince exploded with frustration.  “We cannot just sit idly by!” Jammell shouted.  “I will not!”

King Abdullon glowered at the Crown Prince.  “We will _do nothing_ to endanger our children, but surely you understand, this wait will be agony.”

“I do, and I’m heartily sorry, but your distinctive appearance prevents any attempt at disguise.  It is the same with Elves or Dwarves, as much as I would like the help.  Stealth is our greatest weapon, Majesty.”

This seemed to mollify even the Crown Prince. “Apologies for my impatience.  Please; go on.”

The Wizard pulled out a map of the area.  “Ecthelion is gathering his men here, in Southern Ithilien.  I will meet there to give him Bert’s information, then he’ll wait for my signal.   Then, while I am dealing with matters in the Hall of Kings, Ecthelion will coordinate the attacks on these places, rescue the victims.”

“A distraction,” A slow smile crept over Bard’s face.

“Precisely.  This Eredan’s eyes will be fixed upon me, and he’ll not be given time to send out any warnings.  Surprise is the key here.”

 “How long will all this take?”

 “A few days.”Gandalf smiled.  “Ecthelion has been told to expect me tomorrow.” He looked over to Bert.  “And I won’t be going alone.”

“If you’ll have me.” Bert’s face was more animated and eager than Bard had ever seen.  “I’ll help you see this through.”

“Good.” The Wizard studied the Princes.  “I would like the Princes to wait here, at the Crossing of Poros,” he pointed to the map.  “But you must not interfere.”

Jammell looked suspicious, but his brother grabbed his arm.  “What is more important, _wenidimi_ _?_   Your foolish pride, or the lives of our missing children?” 

In Haradish, Abdullon addressed his son in a demeanor that was not to be argued with.  Jammell to his credit, look chastened, and nodded his head.

Thranduil was puzzled. “Mithrandir, I fail to see how you could possibly get there by tomorrow.  Even with an enchantment on your horses, it will take weeks!”

“Oh, that…” The Wizard laughed.  “I do have friends in high places.  And some of those places are… quite high.”

Thranduil pondered this for a moment, then his eyes grew large.  “Surely you do not mean…”

“I do, and they will be here within the hour.”

The Elvenking threw back his head and laughed.  “Of course!  That is brilliant!”

“What am I missing, here?” Bard was completely confused. 

“ _Hervenn nîn_ , you have seen these friends before, but now you will be formally introduced.”

“To whom?” Bard’s eyebrows raised.

“I would not dream of spoiling Mithrandir’s surprise!”  Thranduil said with a huge grin, “shall we continue this in the Courtyard?  Let us send for the children; they would _not_ want to miss it!”

 

 **Forty-five minutes later...**  

 _“Ulmo’s balls…”_   The King of Dale whispered to himself.

 “ _Bloody fuck..._ ” Bain said, under his breath.

 _“My Lands!”_ Hilda clasped her chest, after she smacked Bain.

 _“Great buckets of goat shit…”_ Percy was too flabbergasted to keep his voice down, and Hilda jabbed him with her elbow.

 _“Wow…”_ Sigrid eyes were like saucers.  “Just... _Wow.”_

Tilda didn’t say anything.  Her eyes went wide and she ran over to her  _Ada,_ who picked her up.  “Do not be afraid _Tithen Pen **;**_ they are friends, who want to help us.”

All stood on the dais with the Harad Royalty, and as two giant Eagles landed by the fountain. 

“Are those the same ones from the Battle?” Bard asked Thranduil softly.

“They are.” Thranduil, handed Tilda to Tauriel.  “Come; Mithrandir will make the introductions.”

They all followed Gandalf down the steps.  “My friends!” The Wizard’s arms opened wide.  “Allow me to introduce you to our host, Bard, son of Brand, heir of Girion, and King of New Dale.  This is Gwaihir, the Windlord, descendant of the Great Thorondor himself, and his brother, Landroval.”

“My Lords, I am truly honored to meet you.  This is our son, Prince Bain, and our daughter, Princess Sigrid.” Bard bowed low, and children paid courtesy. “I’m glad for the chance to thank you personally for helping to save my people.”

Gwaihir bowed his head and accepted his thanks. “You are most welcome, King Bard.”

“And you know King Thranduil, of course. And his daughter, Lady Tauriel, is holding young Princess Tilda.”

The Elvenking and Tauriel saluted the Eagles with great respect.  “ _Len suilon, Brennyn nîn._ _Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn.”_

“It is good to see you, again, Lord Thranduil.  Congratulations on the occasion of your marriage.”

“On behalf of my husband and my family, I thank you.” The Elvenking bowed his head and saluted. 

Tilda finally mustered her courage and gave them shy wave.

Gandalf stepped over to the Harad group.  “I would also like to introduce His Illustrious Majesty, Abdullon IV, King of Harad, and his two sons, Crown Prince Jammell, and Prince Azimullah.”

Abdullon touched his head, his mouth, and his heart. “This is truly an honor, My Lords.”

“The honor is mine,” the Eagle replied, with all courtesy.

Gandalf turned to Abdullon.“Your Majesty send your sons to gather some of their things. We leave in twenty minutes.  You too, Bert.”

The man gulped, but nodded his head.

 

Within minutes, the Kings were waving the party goodbye.   Bert was behind Gandalf on Gwaihir, with his eyes closed and hanging on for dear life.  Landroval carried the Harad Princes;  Azimullah looked a bit nervous but thrilled, and Jammell looked slightly ashen. 

Gandalf’s parting words were, “We’ll be back as soon as we can.  Farewell for now!”

Gwaihir spread his immense wings, which spanned with width of the the Great Hall and took off, followed by Landroval.  Everyone on the Dias squinted, as their hair whipped in the breeze.  Within minutes, they were mere specks in the distance.

“That,” murmured Bard, “is _not_ something you see every day, do you?”

***************

**LETTERS FROM LOTHLÓRIEN**

**To Thranduil from Celeborn:**

> _Suilad, Ettā Thranduil,_
> 
> _As delighted as I was to receive your last letter, it could not compare to the exuberance expressed by the Commander of your Guardians, upon receiving his._
> 
> _We do not know the contents of his letter, but from the manner in which Daeron whooped and shouted with glee from one end of Caras Galadhon to the other, indicated to us (and our entire City!) that the news was good.  This suspicion was confirmed when Haldir and Orophin joined in the loud merriment thus disturbing the peace of the entire forest floor. _
> 
> _While Galadriel and I were  pleased for the Guardian, we gently suggested they express their joy a bit more quietly. We were then invited to an impromptu celebration at their talon, and continued long after Galadriel and I went home.  There were twelve empty bottles when we left, plus six which had yet to be opened._
> 
> _I am pleased to report that tranquility reigns once again in our fair land, as none of the Elves in question could speak above a whisper for several days, and had difficulty with noise of any kind._
> 
> _Naturally, I administered the traditional “hangover remedy” **1 ** to our erstwhile Elves  (though Galadriel chided me for being cruel).  _
> 
> _You may be interested to know that this concoction originated with my Grandfather, (your Great-Great Grandfather) Elmo, then passed down to my father, Galadhon, when he found myself, my brother Galathil, your father,Oropher, and Galion (believe it or not), passed out cold in an alcove in Menegroth! (Your Uncle Galadhon refused to reveal how he first became acquainted with this brew, no matter how many times I asked him…).  _
> 
> _Is this some unofficial Rite of Passage for all Ellyn, do you think? Our Elves have also observed the time-honored tradition of avoiding the Healers, who could offer relief.  It is a matter of masculine pride, to “tough it out,” which my wife also thinks is ridiculous.  But I confess, I was also guilty of such foolishness._
> 
> _Galadriel once again expressed her gratitude for having a daughter, and not a son…_
> 
> _It has been too long since you and I spent any time together, Thranduil, so I have discussed things with my wife, and we have decided to accompany your Guardians on their return home to the Woodland Realm.  If your husband is willing, we would like to spend some time in Dale, to meet your delightful new family, and see this renewed City of Bells for ourselves._
> 
> _Galadriel sends her love, and looks forward to more letters from your young daughter._
> 
> _With much affection, I remain_
> 
> _Your humble servant and friend,_
> 
> _Celeborn_

 

***************

**From Daeron to Turamarth:**

> _Suilad Gwador!_
> 
> _I am in the most beautiful place on Middle Earth, but my mind is fixed on home, and these last weeks will seem interminable._
> 
> _As I am sure you know, I received a letter from Rhian, and I could not help but shout with joy…_
> 
> _Haldir and Orophin are very happy for me, and the Lord and Lady joined us for a rather lengthy celebration in our home, and I have to confess I was rather reckless with the amount of wine I consumed.  I do not remember much after that, and paid for my sins for days afterward._
> 
> _But it was worth it, Mellon.  Even Lord Celeborn’s evil brew was worth it._
> 
> _Rhian wants me!  She loves me!_
> 
> _I have kept her letter in my breast pocket and can’t seem to stop touching it. This envelope contains all my hopes for the future!  I read it several times a day, and in the night, I often light a candle and read it some more.  Perhaps I am afraid that the words will disappear from the page, and this was all a dream.  I have memorized it, word for word, every swirl of her pen, every punctuation mark, everything!  _
> 
> _Thank you, Gwador, for being my steadfast friend, and for picking up after me, when I get so absorbed in what I am doing I do not put things away._
> 
> _Thank you most of all, for packing my silver lamp for the Vigil, for it was on that night that I first learned to hope that the one I love returns my feelings.  I have a future to hope for, and the joy of it cannot be contained._
> 
> _Ci vellon nîn n'uir,_
> 
> _Daeron_

 

***************

**To Rúmil from Haldir:**

 

> _Suilad, Gwanûr,_
> 
> _Hope this letter finds you well, because your brother and I are not.  _
> 
> _Daeron received a letter three days ago that answered his prayers. It seems his love for the woman from Dale is reciprocated and we were very happy for him._
> 
> _The copious amount of wine we drank that night to celebrate was irresponsible, but seemed entirely appropriate at the time, but the consequences of our revelry have been agonizing..  Today, I have managed to stay upright, but have some pity for poor Orophin, who remains in close proximity to the privy._
> 
> _I cannot write more, as the words keep moving on the paper and it makes me nauseous._
> 
> _I am also due to leave for the fences in two hours, must conserve my energy to stay upright on my horse._
> 
> _Cuio vê,_
> 
> _Haldir_
> 
> _P.S. I know you are laughing at us.  I will have my revenge, brother._
> 
>  
> 
> *************** 

**To Tilda from Celeborn:**

> _Suilad, Tithen Pen,_
> 
> _My wife tells me you are enjoying yourself this summer, and yes, she did pass on your greeting, which I gladly accepted._
> 
> _I have some news, which you might find interesting, especially concerning your little friend Liam.  Does he still hold the opinion that women belong in the home?_
> 
> _My wife and I have decided to come to Dale when Daeron returns, so if you would like to arrange an introduction, this Liam might find the Lady Galadriel quite interesting, yes?_
> 
> _My Lady and I very much look forward to meeting you and your family._
> 
> _Until then,_
> 
> _Galo Anor erin râd lîn, Tithen Pen_ _,_
> 
> _Celeborn_
> 
> _P.S.  I approve of the practice of speaking to your Da in Sindarin.  Keep it up!_

 

***************

 

**To Rhian from Daeron:**

> _Oh, Rhian, Meleth nîn,_
> 
> _You say you are afraid I would turn you away?  I wish you could have seen my reaction when I received your letter!  Haldir and Orophin will attest to my joy, and the Lord and Lady will gladly bear witness to my shouts of happiness._
> 
> _Heryn vuin, I felt something for you that first day I met you, though I did not quite understand it.  Your fëa touched me._
> 
> _Do you want to know when I first knew I was in love with you?  Darryn was just weeks old, and you were in your rooms with Aunt Indis.  I was holding the baby, you smiled at me, and my heart wanted to burst.  I knew in that moment, it was you, Rhian.  It would always be you._
> 
> _But you needed to heal, Hind Calen.  You needed time to understand yourself, without the pressure of living up to anyone’s expectation.  I wanted you to know how wonderful and strong you could be on your own.  You deserved that that gift, even more than what could be between us!_
> 
> _I love you for your beauty, of course I do!  You are so lovely, Meleth nîn, it is hard not to lose myself in your green eyes, and your face surrounded by all that glorious, wavy hair…_
> 
> _But it is your heart I love most, dearest lady.  You are so strong, and brave and determined to be the most for yourself, which is all I have ever wanted for you, Hind Calen.  And, you love me, which completes my happiness._
> 
> _I am counting the minutes until I can feel you in my arms, because my home is wherever you are._
> 
> _Sevig i veleth nîn, Hind Calen.  Urieb…_
> 
> _Daeron_
> 
>  

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Melin gi phuithad… -_ I love to fuck you…”

 _“MA!  Edregol vêr, Rhian!”_ \- YES!  That’s wonderful, Rhian!”

 _Len suilon, Brennyn nîn.  Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn._ – I greet you, My Lords.  A star shines on the hour of our meeting.

 _Ci vellon nîn n'uir_ – Forever you are my friend.

 _Suilad_ – Greetings

 _Galo Anor erin râd lîn, Tithen Pen_ – May the sun shine upon your path, Little One.

_Heryn vuin – beloved lady_

_Sevig i veleth nîn, Hind Calen.  Urieb…_ \- You have my love, Green Eyes.  Always…

 _Hind Calen_ – “Green eyes” Daeron’s pet name for Rhian.

 _Meleth nîn_ – My Love

 

**NOTES:**

_Buna_ \- coffee

 _Varinēri –_ (Haradish) Valar

 _Imebēti -_ Mistress

 _Mīsiti_ _-_ Widower

 _Melikami; kibirihi_ – Well met, Your Majesty.

 _Besibisebachini se‘ati ānidi kokebi yaberali._ – A star shines on the hour of our meeting.

 _Wenidimi_ \- Brother

 

 

[1] From “What Makes a King,” CH 24: “It was the same recipe Galion used on him in his youth.  Feren had dared Thranduil to sneak into the wine cellars, and steal some of his father's Dorwinian.  Then the two young Elves took it behind one of the barns and drank it all.  After their fathers finally found them, passed out, surrounded by empty bottles, King Oropher asked Galion to give them the "hangover remedy."  It actually did nothing, except make them sicker, but they learned their lesson.  Years later, Galion had told Thranduil this "remedy" had been administered to King Oropher himself in his wayward youth (to Galion, too, although he hated to admit it).”  <https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/26414571>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really intend to, but it looks like I found a way to bring the classic “Barduil Coffee Shop AU” into my version of Middle Earth!  ;-P


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf and the others return, Bard and Thranduil bid the King of Harad farewell.  The family finally takes that vacay to the Palace, and Thranduil introduces his husband to an old friend.
> 
> Daeron’s year is over, and while he is eager to return home, it's still hard to say goodbye to his friends and to leave the most beautiful forest on Middle Earth.
> 
>  

 

 

“I want morning and noon and nightfall with you. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses...the smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. I want to see you in the final hour of my life...to lie in your arms as I take my last breath.”

** ― Lisa Kleypas, Again the Magic **

 

 

**City of Dale, 15 th of July 2943 T.A.**

Five days after they flew off, Gandalf returned on Gwaihir, with a triumphant look on his face.  Landroval accompanied them, bearing only Prince Azimullah.

“Where is your brother?” the King of Harad’s eyes looked frantic.

 “Jammell is well.” Azimulla reported to his anxious father.  “He is leading the caravan back to our Palace,” the Prince smirked.  “He…did not care for the heights.”

“I cannot say I blame him,” Abdullon approved.  “But tell me, were you successful?”

“Just a minute; where’s Bert?” Bard demanded.

Gandalf got down from Gwaihir’s back and raised his hands.  “It was a triumph, and Bert is fine. We must thank the Eagles, then we’ll discuss the details.”

“Right.” Bard went over to the Eagles and bowed low.  “Lords of the Air, once again, you honor us.”

“The honor is ours, King of Dale.” Gwaihir then turned his giant head, and addressed Abdullon.  “I would speak with you, Majesty.”

The Harad King stepped forward for a private consultation, then Abdullon bowed low and saluted him.  “I thank you, Lord of the Mighty Wind.”

“We will await you.”

Once the Kings and Gandalf gave their courtesies, the sound of their wings flapping was like thunder, and their everyone’s hair flew in the wind, as the birds took off.

 

Once in the conference room, Gandalf gave his report: As soon as Eredan was destroyed, Gandalf quickly rescued Steward Turgon, who ordered the arrest of all in his Council and Staff who had been in concert with the _Thrall_.  They were immediately taken to the Hill of Guard, and thrown off the edge of rock that jutted out of the eastern face of the City.

The Wizard smiled at Bard. “Bert behaved admirably.  I think he has begun to redeem himself in his own eyes.”

“That’s good news.  Was he with you?”

“He was with Ecthelion, and every place on Bert’s list was raided at once, and the criminals were captured or killed in the attempt.  He did more than save those children.”  Gandalf’s face clouded over.  “There were many other victims, besides the Haradrim, and Bert asked to remain there, and help them.”

“Will he be all right, do you think?”

“I do.  Ecthelion has given him a place to live, and a decent salary, which he says he can use to help his family in the Wold.  He asked me to convey his deepest thanks to you for showing him mercy.”

 “Your Majesty,” the Wizard handed Abdullon a piece of paper. “All but five of your missing children on this list have been recovered, and are on their way back to their families.  Lord Gwaihir has asked his associate, Meneldor the Swift, to fly over the caravan.” 

“Thank you,” Abdullon said gratefully.  “Can you say what happened to the others?”

“I’m afraid they are dead, according to witnesses. Three died from a fever, and two from… injuries.  My condolences.”

The King sighed.  “Still, this is more than I could have wished for last summer.  At last, this nightmare is over.”

“As far as we can see, yes.”  The Wizard put his hand on Abdullon’s shoulder.  “I understand your own granddaughter was one who was taken?”

The King nodded his head.  “She was.  But she will be in her mother’s arms, very soon.”

“Then I am happy for you.  I must ask you to keep something in mind, Your Majesty,” Gandalf looked intensely at the Harad King and the Prince.  “Sauron will continue to send servants to seduce you, to encourage your paranoia.  You will have doubts, but I beg you to remember what we accomplished here, and remember the friendships you have made.  Teach your sons, and your son’s sons, of the friends you have here in the North.”

 

The next day, Gandalf left on his horse to meet up with Radagast, and the last of the Haradrim made ready to head for home.

The caravan was in the Courtyard, and the the Kings of the North and their families said goodbye.

Abdullon was emotional, as he gave his formal farewells.  “I am glad to know you all, and count you as friends,” he said.

“It is a privilege to know you, as well, Your Majesty,” Bard bowed, then embrace him. “I wish you and your new great-grandson every joy.”

Thranduil smiled and offered a blessing in Sindarin for a safe journey, then the children came forward to bow and curtsy, and Tauriel saluted him and wished him well.

“You are very kind,” Abdullon smiled. “Prince Bain, you will make a fine and brave King, with your fathers to set such an example.  I wish you well.  As for the beautiful Princess Sigrid, I wish you success in your desire to serve your people as a Healer.  And Princess Tilda, I have enjoyed knowing you.  Your curiosity is a gift, child.  Never let it go.”  He leaned down and whispered, “and if you decide to become a teacher, work hard on your spelling.” He gave her a wink, then stood straight and tall, as he mounted his horse.”

“The Elves await you at the tower, to collect your prisoners.” Thranduil told him.  “Safe journey to you all.”

Once the party was through the gates, with their prisoners walking behind in shackles, Bard and Thranduil went to the Eastern Parapet, to watch them leave.

“Look!” Thranduil pointed to the sky.  Two specks appeared, then became bigger and a cry from the Eagles was heard.  In the distance, they saw the caravan stop in the middle of the flat plains.

“What are they doing?” Bard asked. 

Thranduil shielded his eyes from the sun.  “They are taking the chains off the prisoners.”

“They’re _WHAT?_ You’ve must be joking!”

“Wait...  Do you see what the Eagles are doing?”

The Bowman looked closer, then gasped, “Holy shit balls…”

The Windlord and his brother grabbed a prisoner in each of their giant claws, then flew over to the nearby mountain range and violently dashed them against the rocks from a height that would leave no unbroken bones.  The remaining criminals were screaming and running for their lives, but it there was no escape, and within minutes, all seven bodies were left as food for the vultures and other carrion.

“ _Now_ it’s finally over,”  Bard said, as he reached for Thranduil’s hand.  “That was tough to watch, but I wish I’d thought of it…  Thranduil? Hey…. What’s wrong, love?”

The Elvenking was frozen to the spot looking very pale.

“What is it?”

“I… had a vision, Bard.”

“Here, love,” Bard grabbed his arm. “Let’s get you out of the sun, and find you somewhere to sit.”

Once they were down the steps, he found a bench in the shade and sat his Elf down. “Tell me what you saw.”

“It was a terrible battle…  before the walls of Minas Tirith, and the Harad were there, riding creatures bigger than any Oliphant, with long spikes tied to their tusks.  The Harad men’s faces were painted...”

“They were fighting Orcs?”

“No,” Thranduil swallowed. “The Rohirrim shooting at them, throwing spears…. I heard a leader of Men cry out, ‘Bring it down, bring it down…”

“Oh, gods…” Bard was crushed.  He closed his eyes,  rubbed his brow.  “So, all this was for nothing?”

“Do not say that, _Meleth nîn,”_ the Elvenking put his hand on Bard’s arm.  “Was your reason for helping those children simply a strategy for political gain?”

Bard sighed.  “No, you’re right.  We did it because it was the right thing to do.” The Bowman shook his head. “I’m sorry; I’m just so disappointed.”

“I am, as well,” Thranduil admitted.  “Still, we planted the seeds of peace, which is all we _can_ do.  I have to believe that it will mean something.”

“Maybe, the Harad won’t fight us, here.”  Bard reached out and took his hand.  “Maybe our efforts help the North win, when the time comes.”

“We will cling to that hope, _Meleth_.” Thranduil sighed.

“Come on; let’s head back, for some lunch.  I’m starved.”

 “I would like that.” Thranduil kissed him.  “I received a letter from Celeborn this morning.  He and Galadriel are coming with the Guardians.”

“Really?  Tilda will be busting her buttons! Will you be meeting them at the Palace?”

“I thought we all could go.  I know we are leaving next week, but why not take advantage of the summer holiday, and take them again?  Traveling will be difficult once school starts.”

“Don’t see why not.  Hilda wants to have this big picnic on the shores of the Long Lake before then, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“Really?”

“Aye.  Most of us were born and bred on the water, love.  She says we need to get back to it, and get past our memories of washing ashore after the fires.  We’ll reclaim our heritage and make us that much stronger.”

“What a wonderful idea,” the Elvenking grinned.  “Will Elves be invited to this?”

“Don’t see why not.  We’ll ask her.”

“I will need to know right away, so I can speak to my people, before they attend.”

“Elves swim, don’t they?”

“Oh, yes!” The Elvenking laughed.  “Do not tell Hilda, but Elves prefer to swim naked.”

“Ah.  That could be awkward.”  Bard kissed his Elf again. “Proceed at your own risk.  If she sees Elven bits and bobs bouncing in front of the Valar and everybody, the Mother of Dale will whip your arse”

 

****************

 

That night at dinner, Thranduil announced to the family that his cousins will be visiting Dale in just over a month.

“Goodie!” Tilda clapped her hands with delight. “I get see Celeborn!  He’s really nice… and I finally get to meet Gallerdil!”

“There coming _here?”_ Sigrid’s eyes grew wide.  _“Til!”_

The little girl’s spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. “What?”

“Well, you can’t just call them by their first names like that!”

“Why not?”  Tilda gave her sister a look.  “They’re my friends.”

“Well…but,” the girl’s voice was filled with awe.  “I’ve been reading a book about Elves!  Do you realize who she is?  She’s the most important Elf on Middle Earth!”

“I was rather hoping _I_ was,” Thranduil raised his eyebrows.  “At least to _you.”_

“You know what I mean, _Ada_.  I mean, you’re a King and all that, but so is Da, and…  well, you’re just _Ada_.  That’s different!”

“What’s so special about Galadriel?”  Bain asked.  “ _Ada_ can do a lot of stuff and he’s pretty powerful.”

“Why thank you,” the Elvenking bowed his head. “High praise indeed.”

“He is, but _she_ was born in Valinor!  Did you know that?”

Tilda just shrugged went on eating her soup. “So?”

“What do you mean, ‘So?’” Sigrid shook her head. “She’s ages and ages older than _Ada!_   She is older than the Sun and the Moon, even!”

“How old is she?” Bain asked.

“I don’t know, exactly, but she was here before they even measured time – she’s seen everything, and her father is a King!”

“Uh…so are both of ours?” Bain still looked unimpressed. “She’s ancient; so what?”

Sigrid gave her brother a disgusted look. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“You’re making her sound decrepit, Sig!” Bain rolled her eyes. “Quit being so crabby!”

“Are you saying she’s too old to be friends with your sister?” Bard raised his eyebrow, and tried not to smile.

“Well, no; I mean, she’s just a really important Elf!  Don’t you think Tilda should at least say their names right?”

“Hey!” Tilda gave her sister a dirty look.  “I _do_ say them right!  You’re just jealous, because they’re _my_ friends, not yours!  You’re _not my boss, either!”_

“I am not telling _you_ what to do, I was _talking_ to Da—“

“Yes, you were!  You and Bain never bothered to write her, did you?   Well, I did, and we’re friends;  _so there!”_

“She has a point, _Iellig.”_ Thranduil interjected.

Bard tried to calm things down.  “Sigrid, I’m proud of you for being so interested in history, but I honestly don’t think Celeborn and Galadriel want to be treated like Demi-Gods when they come, all right?”

“But, Da-a—“

“No buts.  Show proper deference and pay courtesy, but then, make the effort to know them as people; don’t be bowing and scraping the whole time they’re here.  If they didn’t want Tilda writing them letters, they wouldn’t have written back all year.  Tilda’s right; no one stopped you from writing them, did they?”

“No, I guess not.” Sigrid looked sheepish.  “I’m sorry Til.”

 _Ada_ gave Tilda an expectant look, then.  “I’m sorry, too.”

“Are you feeling all right, lovey?” Hilda looked her up and down  “This isn’t like you.  What’s up?”

Bain was still irritated and rolled his eyes.  “She’s just upset because her _boyfriend’s_ leaving town.”

Bard dropped his silverware and couldn’t breathe.  He stole a quick glance at Thranduil, whose face was turning purple.  _“What?”_

 _“Boyfriend?”_ Thranduil took a breath. “ _Who_ is this... boyfriend, and why do we not know about him?”

“There is no boyfriend!” Sigrid was on her feet in an instant, and threw her napkin at Bain. _“SHUT YOUR BIG FAT MOUTH!”_  Then ran from the room, sobbing.

“I’ll go,” Hilda said, when Bard made to go after her. “You stay and deal with _him.”_

Tauriel stood, and grabbed their dishes.  “Come, _Tithen_ _Pen_.  We can have our dessert in my room, while we watch the kittens.”

“But I wanna see Da yell at Bain—“ Tilda said, before Tauriel yanked her out of the room.

Percy made an excuse about checking something or other, and fled, shutting the door behind him.

Bain stared at his lap, under their glare.

“What are you talking about?” Bard demanded.

Bain’s eyes widened.  “I-I just meant she’s got a crush on one of the Wardens, and—“

“And you know this, how?”

“She lights up every time he’s around, and stares at him, when she thinks he’s not looking…” he made a face, “and she does this lovey-dovey giggle when he talks to her, like those girls that follow me around.”  Bain shuddered.

“And does this Warden reciprocate these feelings?”

Bain made the mistake of thinking his fathers just wanted information.  “He has no idea!  Or maybe Rumil’s too polite to say anything, but she’s got it bad!” He grinned.

Thranduil gave their son a look that would curdle milk.  “So, you think that is funny?  To _humiliate_ _and_ _embarrass_ your own sister?”

“I didn’t mean—“

Bard said in a quiet, deadly voice. “You didn’t?  Then tell me why you saw fit to be _so deliberately cruel!”_ The Bowman slammed his fist at the table making the boy jump.

“She’s just been so weird lately!”

“No, Bain.  You hurt your sister just to get back at her, didn’t you?  How could you?” A thought struck Bard. “Did you talk about this with your friends?”

“Well, no...”

“Why should I believe you?”

“B-Because if I did, the Guards would hear me, and then they would tell you!” Bain raised his hands.

“You are correct about that.” Thranduil said, still glaring. “Did we not speak about all those girls who were flirting with you, and how uncomfortable it was?  Did you not work out a signal for your guards to help with that?”

“Y-Yes…”

“Consider that revoked.  Apparently, you need to appreciate the pain you just caused.  You are on your own with that, until further notice.”

Bain gasped. “You can’t—“

 “He can.” Bard agreed. “Let me tell you what else you’re going to do:  First, you will apologize to your sister, then, you will spend all day, every day at the stables, cleaning out the stalls and polishing the tack, mopping the floors and whatever grunt work needs to be done.  You will leave here after breakfast, and work until dinnertime.  If you even try to slack off, you won’t be coming to the Palace, nor will you be getting a horse for six months. Is that clear?”

“But I was just joking—“

“Don’t play stupid with me, Bain!” Bard slammed his fist down again. “You want to make it a year?  Keep talking, and see what happens!”

Bain swallowed.  “Yes, Da.”

“Go to your room.” Bard’s teeth gritted. “Now!”

The boy was out the door like a shot.  

“Well, that escalated rather quickly,”  Thranduil sounded dazed.  “We were having a simple family dinner...”

“Welcome to parenting teenagers, love.” Bard sighed.  “Should we speak to Rumil?”

“I hate going behind Sigrid’s back, but I think you should.” Hilda just came in. “He probably doesn’t understand what teenaged girls are like.”

“Who does?” Bard shook his head, then pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“How is Sigrid?”  Thranduil asked with great concern.

“Well, she’s done bawling.  For now, at least.” Hilda sat down, and explained to the Elvenking. “Bain wasn’t mistaken, Sigrid has a crush on Rumil, but it’s just an infatuation.  This is normal for a human, Thranduil.  Young people often think they are head-over-heels like this, but it’s just a fancy, and it fades.  Bain didn’t do her any favors, and I hope you punished him, but this will blow over.”

“They will not hate each other?”

“Oh, I doubt it.” Bard picked up his cup and took a drink. “They’ll be mad for a while, but they’ll make up, like you and I do, when we fight.”

Thranduil considered this.  “I just want them to love each other.”

Hilda laughed. “They will – even if I have to knock their skulls together until they do!”

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 29 th of July 2943 T.A.**

Bain did apologize to his sister, and they eventually made up - much to Thranduil’s relief.  She even helped him in the stables once or twice, and after almost two weeks, was able to go with the family to the Palace, along with Alun, Rhys and Bowen, who was also in need of a horse.

All but one of Beriel’s puppies had been purchased by members of the Elven Army, and he wanted to deliver them personally, then use some of the money to buy a pony for his six-year-old brother Maddox.  Thranduil’s kingdom did not have any ponies, but they found a small, gentle dark mare that Maddox could grow into.  King Thranduil’s offer to help pay for her, but the boy politely refused, saying, “Thank you, My Lord, but you and Lord Bard were nice to let me to keep all the money from the pups.  Maddie helped me take care of them, and I want to surprise him.”

In the end, the Elvenking agreed, but insisted upon paying for the little mare’s saddle and bridle and such.

Once that business was done, Bowen, Rhys, the rest of the children, tore around the Palace to see  their friends, who still lived there with their new Elven parents.  Alun spent some time with his mother, Ina, who was doing well, and enjoyed her days there.  Rhys, to Alun’s surprise asked to see his grandmother this trip, and their visit was cautious, but clearly a beginning.

This afternoon, Thranduil took all the boys out to the paddocks, where several fine horses from the Woodland Realms had been culled, for Bain choose from.

“What do you think, _Ion nîn?”_ Thranduil asked Bain, as they walked with Falarion around the paddock fence. 

“I like that one, _Ada_.” Bain pointed to a large, dark stallion with a white mane and tail, and socks on his back legs.

“Can you tell us why you think so?” the Elvenking asked him.

“Well, I like his color.  He’s striking, but it’s more than that.  Look: he’s getting along with the others; I don’t see any biting or kicking, while we’ve been watching them, and I think he’s sure of himself.   I like the way he tosses his head and trots around, so he’s got some energy.”

“Very good!  Now, what about his gait, have you watched how he walks?”

“He’s not favoring any of his legs, and see the muscles in  his chest and shoulders?”

“I do,” Thranduil said, with a hint of pride in his voice.

“They’re well-developed, so he’s strong.”  Bain looked to his friends.  “What do you guys think?”

“I like him,” Bowen said. 

“I do, too.   And I think he’d get along with my horse,” Rhys nodded.  “The last thing we need is fights, when we ride.  And Bowen’s mare won’t go into season unless the Elves let her, so that’s another problem solved.”

“You are wise to consider this, Rhys,” Falarion approved.  “Your horsemanship has increased leaps and bounds since you first started.  You and Prince Bain are not ready for full-sized War Horses yet, but it will not be long.”

“That is true,” Thranduil seconded.  “But the horses you own now will put your safety first.”

“I know.” Bain said, quietly.  “Bregolas saved my life.”

“He did!” Rhys told Falarion.  “I saw him rear up and take an arrow aimed at right Bain’s head!  I couldn’t believe it!”

Falarion was sad, but pleased.  “Then he served his master well.” The Horse Master put his hand on Bain’s shoulder.  “I am sorry you lost him, but I am glad to know you honor his sacrifice.”

“I’ll never forget him.”  The Prince said, in a solemn tone. 

“Right,” Rhys clapped his hand on Bain’s back to cheer him up. “Now, let’s see this horse you picked out.”

“Shall we take him to a stall for closer examination?”  Thranduil asked his son.

“Yes, please.”  Bain looked eager.

Falarion bent down to crawl in between the fence rails, and retrieve the horse, but Bain stopped him. “Could I get him?  I should find out right away if I can handle him.”

Falarion nodded his approval and handed him a rope.

“Thanks, but I won’t need it.” He said, politely.

Rhys and Bowen looked on with fascination, and Bain slowly walked over to the stallion, murmuring gentle words in Sindarin and Quenya.  The horse stopped and stared at the boy, tense as Bain slowly reached out to pet his nose, then rub his ears.  He relaxed, and his tail began to swish, as the boy took hold of his halter, clicked his tongue, and led him over toward the group.

“Well done, _Ion nîn!”_ Thranduil smiled.  “Falarion, what is his name?”

“This is _Sílnaith_ , which means ‘Shining Spear,’ in Westron.  He is bigger than _Bregolas_ , and Lord Bain’s observations were correct: he is well-developed and very strong.  However, he has a gentle demeanor, and would be an excellent choice.  As a first horse, I would not recommend him, but if you have been keeping up with your riding, Bain, you could be ready.  I would like to see you ride him, to be sure.”

“I agree.” Thranduil said.  “Saddle him up, then you can put him through his paces.”

For the next hour, the group leaned on the fence of the smaller paddock, as Bain walked, trotted and cantered _Sílnaith_ around the ring, as Falarion commanded. 

“Your posture has improved, Bain!  Well done!  Now, walk him…  good!  Now, drop the reins and use your knees…  trot him…  keep going…  faster, faster!  Very good!  Now, use the voice signals…”

“I don’t know how to use my knees, yet.” Bowen said, as he watched. 

Thranduil looked at the young boy.  “Did you not learn this when you were here?”

Bowen shook his head.  “I didn’t get to do much riding. Mam had the new baby, and she was so tired, and sad after losing Da.  I needed to be there to help.”

“What you did was right, _Ionneg_.” The Elvenking squeezed his shoulder.

“Can _Vórima_ do that?”

“All horses from my Realm are trained so.” Thranduil gave him an encouraging look. “Turamarth is an excellent mentor, Bowen.  He will not stop until you are an expert horseman, so trust him to know when you are ready, but I want you to know that your horse protects you even now.”

“She does?”

“Yes.  Think about the day of the attack, Bowen; what did _Vórima_ do?”

Bowen looked over at Rhys, then said, “All the horses kept us from getting hit.  I mean, they were aiming for Bain, but _Vórima_ did this huge jump sideways, then raced to the Mountain, even before Turamarth told her to.  I could barely hang on!”

“Me too!” Rhys added.  “Tur threw Bain on _his_ horse, then told them all to get us to Erebor!  I never went so fast in my whole life!”

 “Elven horses are are remarkable, aren’t they?”  Thranduil squeezed Bowen’s shoulder again, and smiled at both boys. “I am thankful that Bain has such loyal friends, to support him unconditionally, and to keep his confidences.  When he is King, he will rely on the two of you more than you can imagine, sometimes more than you will want him to.  But he cannot bear all these burdens alone, can he?”

“I’ll be there.” Rhys vowed. 

“So, will I.”  Bowen seconded.  “I promise, too, My Lord.”

“Then our son is a fortunate young man.”  Thranduil smiled.

 

***************

**The Woodland Realm, 30 th of July 2943 T.A.**

The family and friends had finally managed the outing that had been called off last year, because of Ellyn’s death (though no one mentioned it in front of Bowen).  They enjoyed the sights and sounds of the Woodland Realm in the summer, and when they found a clearing and spread their blankets, they enjoyed a nice lunch then relaxed.  

Sigrid and Hilda leaned against a tree trunk and read some books while the Guardians helped the children climb up the trees.  Bard was sleepy and relaxed beside his Elf, but Thranduil was gritting his teeth, and clenching his fists.  And holding his breath.

Bard chuckled, and kissed his cheek.  “I’m proud of you, love.”

“I do not know what you are talking about.” The Elf tried to be nonchalant, as he watched Ruvyn carefully help Tilda upward.  “They seem…to be having a good time… do they not?”

“Ruvyn’s not going to let her fall, you know that.  Nor will Turamarth, or Ivran, or any of them.  And they’re not even going that high, see?  Look at them!”

“I know…”  The Elf mumbled nervously. “I am not quite used to seeing her so active.  What if she is not strong enough?”

Bard smiled and took the berry tart from Thranduil and set it down.  “Go on.  I know you want to.”

“You would not mind?”

“Nope.  Now, get up there with the Little Bean, and show her how it’s done, yeah?  You’re not going to be happy until you do.  Go one, love; have some fun.”  He kissed his cheek.

Thranduil was on his feet in an instant, and swinging up the branches before Bard finished his sentence.  Bard grinned, folded his hands behind his head, and settled down for a pleasant nap.

 

The next day, the Kings made another trip into the woods, for a long-awaited introduction.

“You know, I’m actually kind of glad we didn’t get to do this last year,” Bard said, as he followed Thranduil through his forest. 

“Why would you say that, Meleth?” The Elvenking gave him a puzzled look from his saddle.  “I thought you wanted me to show it to you?”

“I do!  But last year, I didn’t know I could hear trees.” Bard grinned.  “Now, I’ll learn all your secrets and stories of your wayward youth.  This is going to be fun!”

Oh, this area was everything Thranduil said it was!  One could almost forget that most of the Kingdom was sick; as far as Bard’s eyes could see, was green grass, summer wildflowers, and tall trees with green leaves.  The sun shone through the trees, and sparkling on the forest floor, and the horses were relaxed.

“I get why you love this so much.”  Bard breathed in the sweet air.  “I spent my whole life on the water, and smelling fish morning, noon and night, living in a house I could never get warm enough to keep the chill away.  That place had a dampness that can settle in your bones, and drained the life out of you.”

“I’m sorry, _Meleth nîn_.”

“When I got that job working for you seven years ago, I was still stuck on the water, but I had a chance to see this forest, and I fell in love with it, long before I fell in love with you.  I saw _life_ here, and it filled up some of the emptiness in me.  I saw the trees, and the plants and the birds, and all the animals; a whole world opened up to me.”

“Did that help with your depression?”

Bard gave his Elf a grim smile.  “Yes and no.    Yes, because I began to envision a life that could be different for me and the kids.  But I couldn’t see how I could do it.  I wanted off that fucking water, more than anything! As much as I loved my people, and I truly did, I could never leave them to fend for themselves, even if I had the money to pack up and start somewhere else.  In the end, it all made me feel hopeless, you know what I mean?  Every time I loaded my barge and headed for home, I dreaded it.”

Thranduil stopped his horse, and reached out his hand. “And yet, the Valar saw what you were doing, and now you are here.” 

Bard took it, squeezed the Elf’s fingers, and kissed his knuckles.  “Aye.  Here I am.”  He swallowed, and his throat tightened.  “I think about all that, and I ache for that person I was then, does that make sense?”

“Yes, it does.”  Thranduil smiled.  “Ah.  Here we are.”

The Kings hobbled their horses, and they walked over to the biggest oak tree Bard had ever seen.

“This is the tree that I have been telling you about, _Meleth nîn_.”  The Elvenking smiled and patted its trunk.  Almost every Elf seems to become attached to one that becomes special.  We do not go looking for it, mind you.  Somehow, we…find each other.  I cannot explain it, but it is like this tree was waiting for me to find him.”

Bard looked up in wonder at the sheer size of it.  “It’s really beautiful.  What kind of relationship can an Elf really have with a tree like this?”

Thranduil didn’t answer. He just smiled, and swung himself up gracefully onto the lowest limb, and began to climb, while Bard followed him.  The Elf settled on a large branch and leaned against it and sighed with pleasure.  The Bowman did the same, on slightly lower branch off to his side.

“When I was growing up, I was an only child, as was Feren, but my parents were the rulers, and as much as they loved me, the needs of our Kingdom meant interrupted dinners, canceled plans, and many, many days where I would barely see _Ada_ and _Nana_.  Galion did what he could, of course, but he also had his job to do, and I was left to caretakers and servants.

“But my tree was always had time for me.  No matter what time of day or night, or season or weather, or how little or how long, I always knew what I could expect from him; a steady friend who would listen to me.  I would sit up here, lean against his trunk like this, and tell him all my secret thoughts, my fears and my hopes.  I could be in a terrible mood, and shout out all my anger, and he remained as steadfast as always.”

Bard looked up at him.  “That sounds wonderful.”

“Do you know, the first thing I did after meeting Mírelen, was to come here, and tell him about her?  My tree was the first to know I wanted to marry her.”

“Did you tell him about me?”

“I have not had the chance.  That is why we are here, today, _Meleth nîn_.”  The Elf turned and held out his hand.  “Come up and join me.  And we will tell him together.”

As soon as Bard was settled with his back to Thranduil, the Elvenking put his arms around him and held him close.  The Bowman closed his eyes, leaned his head back on his husband’s shoulder, and listened to the words in Quenya spoken in soft, reverent tones.

Images began to show themselves in his mind, which he instinctively knew weren’t from his Elf, but from the giant Oak: 

A small, blonde Elfling with big ears eagerly climbing as high as he could go, until the tree became concerned and moved his branches to stop him. 

Another time he was crying, because his father had promised to show him how to shoot with his brand-new bow, but had to cancel, and he had been gone for weeks.

It was dark, and the mischievous Elf sneaked out of the Palace to climb, and fell, and the Oak managed to stop him from getting killed, but he had broken some bones.  The tree sang to soothe him, until the Guards finally found him.

The Elfling was older now, and about to go to war.  Oak was sad for him, but Thranduil was eager to travel and see more of Middle Earth.  And he would be with his father, the Mighty King Oropher!  What could go wrong?  “No,” he told Oak, “you’re mistaken; this will be an adventure!” But the tree remained concerned.

Then a newly-returned, very reluctant King, sat in Oak’s branches, heartbroken and weeping.  He missed his father, and was frightened for his mother, and felt…tainted after all the things he had seen.   And he had lost part of his face, to the Dragon. 

“How could anyone ever want someone as ugly as me?” he asked Oak.  “Why would anyone love such a freak?”

Suddenly, Thranduil was back, looking much like he did now, but much more settled and confident.  And he had a beautiful, dark-haired Elleth with him, who he introduced as his new wife.  Oak was overjoyed and waved his branches with glee at his friend’s happiness.

Then the couple returned, to show off a small bundle.  “A son!  I have a son!” Thranduil’s face was lit up and life couldn’t be more perfect.  Again, the Oak celebrated his bliss.

Then Oak grieved; the trees had been whispering their grief for weeks that the Queen was dead. 

A while later, the Elvenking was sitting up high, but he didn’t talk, or sing, or weep.  He looked at Oak with blank eyes, then leaned his head against the trunk and stared into space, for hours.   Thranduil could not weep, but Oak lovingly stroked him with his leaves, and wept for him.  Many times, over the centuries, the King would return and sit for hours in silence, but he allowed himself to be comforted, and that was something.

Then Bard saw the two of them, as they were right now, and he felt the utter joy of Oak, and learning that his friend had found happiness again.  No words were spoken aloud, but somehow Thranduil was telling his old friend of his marriage, and of his life in Dale with his new family.

Bard opened his eyes and laughed, as smooth leaves lovingly caressed his arms and his face.  “I think your friend likes me,” he whispered.  “Thank you for sharing this with me, love.”

His response was the warmth of arms that tightened around him, and a kiss on his temple.

 

*****************

 **City** **of** **Dale** , **8 th** **of** **August** **2943** **T**. **A**.

“Good morning, sweetie!”  Rhian went into the nursery to see her little son standing in his crib, grinning at her. “You look happy, today.”

“Mama!” He smiled. “Mama!”

“Yes, it’s Mama.  Can you give me a kiss?”  She picked him up, and he leaned forward and touched his mouth to her cheek.  “That’s my good boy!”

She took him over to the table, and as she took off his soaker, then his nappy, the boy pointed to Daeron’s picture. “Ada!”  Then he laughed.  “Ada!”

She picked up the frame.  “Is this Ada?”

Darryn laughed, as Rhian looked lovingly at the Elvenking’s sketch.  “Ada’s coming, Little Man; did I tell you?  Yes, he is!” She tickled him. “He’s coming to see me, and you, and Grandad...  Ada loves us, Darryn!  What do you think of that?”

”Ada!” The baby kicked. “Ada, Ada, adadada!”

“Soon,” Rhian whispered, then kissed the image of the Elf.  The days seemed endless, she was so anxious to see him!

The little boy reached out his hands. “Wan’ that!”

She laughed.  “Do you want to kiss Ada, too?”

Darryn smiled and wiggled his fingers as he reached.

“Here, little man.” She grinned. After several sloppy kisses, Rhian cleaned the glass, and placed it back on the shelf.  Then she kissed her finger and touched his smiling lips. “I love you…” 

Then she finished changing the baby and began her day, hoping it would go by quickly.

She was ready.

 

*****************

**Lothlórien, 16 th of August 2943 T.A.**

Last night there had been a feast to say farewell to the Guardians of the Woodland Realm, whose stay in their land had come to an end.  Daeron, Elion, the brothers Amrol and Haiden, Eilinel, and Amras all received high praises from all those who worked with them, and each in turn stood and gave a short speech to thank everyone for their incredible experiences here.

 

Daeron had been summoned to the Healing Hall earlier, and his associates presented him with a special chest to store herbal remedies and various surgical instruments.  With it was a smaller kit, built to fit in a saddle bag.

“I do not know what to say,” Daeron ran his fingers lovingly over his gifts.  “This is exquisite!”

“Say you will think of us when you use it, and that will be thanks enough.” Penlod stepped forward to embrace him.  “Thank you.  You have helped me, more than you know.”

“You helped yourself, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  I merely provided a listening ear.” Daeron smiled at him.  “I am glad you have learned to be happy.”

“My turn,” Orlin hugged him tight. “Write to us often, and be sure and invite us to the wedding!”

“I will.  Thank you all!”

 

Early that morning, Haldir made him go over his room twice, to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, then the Marchwarden rolled his eyes and re-packed everything.   The brothers were staying in Lothlorien, to run things in the Lord and Lady’s absence.

They both had gifted him with several bottles of wine – the same vintage they drank when Rhian sent her letter.  “Share it at your wedding, yes?” Orophin grinned. “But not too much…”

“I will.  You’ve been a wonderful friend.” Daeron whispered, as he embraced him.

“I still am!” the Warden laughed, then became serious.  “If you need anything, anything at all, we will come, _Gwador_ , for you are family, now.”

“And I promise the same.”  Daeron turned to Haldir, and his throat tightened.  “I hardly know what to say, _Mellon_.”

 “Say ‘thank you for packing for me, Haldir!’” Haldir laughed.  “Your cousin will be pleased, when he opens your trunks.”

“Perhaps Turamarth will think I did it myself?”

“I highly doubt it.” Then the Marchwarden took a small box out of his pocket.  “It is tradition to give a gift to a bride yes?  I would be grateful, _Mellon_ , if you would give her these from me for her wedding day.”

Daeron opened the box to find two beautiful combs, with a delicate design done in gold, bedecked with several small jewels; pearls, garnets, and diamonds.

“Oh, Haldir…  These are exquisite!”

The Marchwarden swallowed.  “I had them made years ago, to give to Itaril when I had planned to ask her to marry me.”

Daeron swallowed, and whispered.  “I do not know what to say.”

“Again?” The Marchwarden smirked.  “This time, I will not put words in your mouth.  I _will_ say that these have been hidden away for far too long. I do not want them to be merely a reminder of my regret.  They were made to be worn by someone who is loved.  Think of me, when you see them shining in your Rhian’s hair.”

Daeron grabbed the Marchwarden, and hugged him for several minutes.  “I will,” he whispered gruffly.  “These will be an heirloom of our house, and will be passed to our children, and our children’s children.”

Haldir looked into his eyes.  “I would like that very much.”

After the trunks had been taken, the Elves made ready to head down to the forest floor. 

Daeron held back.  “Go on ahead; I will be along in a minute,” he said.

The Guardian walked through the empty, silent rooms, as echoes of conversations, laughter, pranks, and occasional tears, filled his heart.  He had truly felt at home here, thanks to the Marchwarden and his brother, and Daeron smiled as he went out to the balcony to take in the view, one last time.

His original intention for coming here was to escape heartache, and he had managed that, to some degree.  But what he had gained, as a soldier, as a Healer, as an Elf, was so much more. 

 _He_ _was_ _more_ , now, and it made him glad.

He went to the front door, and last look, and a sigh, he closed it behind him, and made his way down the steps.

He was ready.

  


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil fulfills a promise to the Warden Rumil.  
> The people of Dale reclaim the shores of the Long Lake, and Sigrid proves her worth as a Healer-in-Training.  
> The folk of Dale bid a fond farewell to the Wardens of the Galadhrim, and Tilda FINALLY gets to meet Galadriel!
> 
> And at long last, after a year of waiting and hoping, Daeron finally sees his love...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galadhrim Wardens:  
> Rúmil, Warden, (Captain)  
> Gerion, 2nd in command  
> Eriol, Lórien warrior    
> Lindo, Lórien Warrior          
> Cwën, Lórien Archer  
> Amaren, Lórien Archer
> 
> Woodland Realm Guardians:  
> Daeron (Commander)  
> Elion (2nd in Command)  
> Amrol, Warrior  
> Haden, Warrior  
> Eilinel, Archer  
> Ranuin, Archer

W 

“We cannot decide to love. We cannot compel anyone to love us. There's no secret recipe, only love itself. And we are at its mercy--there's nothing we can do.”

** ― Nina George, The Little Paris Bookshop **

 

 

**City of Dale, 16 th of August 2943 T.A.**

“Good evening, Warden Rúmil,” Thranduil smiled.  “Please come in and make yourself comfortable.”

The Warden stepping into the Royal Bedchamber, and took the seat that was offered, and gratefully accepted the goblet of wine Bard handed him.

After everyone was seated comfortably around the fireplace, the Elvenking began:  “Last September, I made a promised to tell you, of your father’s role in the Last Alliance.  I apologize for not doing this sooner.”

“It is quite understandable, My Lord.  This past year has been rather… busy.”

Thranduil smiled.  “I thank you for  your patience.  I hope you do not mind if my husband joins us?”

“Not at all, My Lord.” 

“Please; no titles in here.  My husband and I have declared this area free of rulers and politics.  We invited you in this room because this is a personal conversation among friends, you understand.”

“Of course.”

“Glad to hear it.” Bard sat back and crossed one knee over another, as he took a drink.  “Now, I believe Thranduil promised us a story?”

“I did.”  The Elvenking’s mouth became a thin line.  “I do not often talk about the War of the Last Alliance, for… personal reasons.  But my affection and esteem for your late father compels me to share what I know of him.”

“I would not have you distress yourself on my account, My- I mean, Thranduil.”

“You deserve to know what a brave _Ellon_ your father was, Rúmil, not only to your people, but for mine, as well.  I know you hardly remember him but for the stories you hear, and for that reason, I am anxious to add my own.  

“I first met Halfar when I accompanied my father to King Amdir’s tent at Dagorlad.   You and all your brothers closely resemble him, though I think Orophin is closest to him in appearance.”

“So many have said.  I am often told how much I resemble my mother.”

“A compliment indeed.” Thranduil nodded.  “Your mother was lovely, and an _Elleth_ of quality in all she did.   When I first entered Amdir’s tent, Halfar was sitting beside his King and gave every appearance of loyalty, but I could sense doubt in him. 

“The King of the Galadhrim spoke at length against Gil-Galad and urged my father not to recognize his authority.    Oropher was unimpressed with Amdir, I assure you.  He rightly perceived him as weak and egotistical, but he listened with all courtesy, then declared that he would make up his own mind.  Amdir was clearly angry to hear this, and began to ‘repeat’ comments he claimed the High-King of the Noldor made, regarding my father and his Kingdom. 

“As Amdir spoke, I noticed Halfar’s look of dismay towards Amdir, and though he did not contradict his King, I could sense these were falsehoods, used to try and manipulate my father into doing Amdir’s bidding.  Clearly, he wanted something from my father and his Army, but he did indicate what that was…yet.”

“What did he want?” Bard asked.

“Amdir wanted to lead a charge against the Enemy, and wanted Oropher to help him.”

“But did your father not lead that charge?” Rúmil was confused.

“He did, but only because he was set up.  Amdir, coward that he was, held back at the last minute, and sent my father, and many of our people to their deaths.”  Thranduil closed his eyes and shook his head.  “It was a slaughter, Rúmil.  And we _all_ would have been killed, but for Marchwarden Halfar. 

The Elvenking leaned forward and gave the Warden an intense look.  “What I am about to tell you, must not leave this room, do you understand?”

“I will not reveal what it said here,” vowed Rúmil.

“That day, as you know, Amdir was also killed, but what you do not know, is that the Marchwarden allowed it to happen.”

“Surely not!” Rúmil was shocked at these words. 

“It is true, though I promise you, it was out of loyalty to your people. You see, an Orc attacked Amdir, but Halfar had a split second to choose between him or young Prince Amroth.  He knew his King’s lies were the cause of all that bloodshed, and decided to put his faith in Amdir’s son, in hopes that more of his people might survive.”

“What happened next?”  Bard asked.

“Halfar knew that Feren and I were out on that field, that both of our fathers were dead.  He led a large band of Galadhrim out to rescue the both of us, and get us to safety.  Then he assumed command over both Silvan Armies, for the rest of that Battle.  In the end, we were victorious, but at the cost of many, many lives.” Thranduil sighed, sadly. “It was such a waste!  And for what?  For vanity?  Amdir was a weak, egotistical ruler, who chafed at the idea that the High King was in charge.”

“What did Oropher think of Gil-Galad?  Did he agree with Amdir?”  Bard’s eyes narrowed, and Thranduil could see Rúmil was equally curious.

“My father was not fond of the Noldor.  He lived through a Kinslaying in Doriath, led by the Fëanorians, and though Gil-Galad and Galadriel had nothing to do with that, he was wary.  But how can one blame him for that?  How could he not be at the sight of one Elf killing another over nothing more than jewels?”  The Elvenking sighed.  “Amdir resented the fact that Gil-Galad was in charge, and though my father did not like it, he was planning to go along with it.”

“Why would Oropher trust the High King?” The Bowman was curious.

“Oh, he did not, but unlike Amdir, my father _served_ his people, Bard.  Their welfare was paramount in his mind, and though he did not care for Gil-Galad personally, he knew that only a united front would insure our survival.  But Amdir began to feed lies to Oropher, and I am ashamed to say that I began to believe them myself.  The King of the Galadhrim had a silver-tongue and was seductive and persuasive in his arguments.”

“What was King Amdir’s ultimate goal in all this?”  Rúmil asked.  “What did he have to gain by setting your people up?”

“He sent my father to his death, and was hoping that I would be killed, as well, so he could take possession of the Woodland Realm.  After the Battle, Halfar confirmed my suspicions.”

“Holy shit…”  Bard’s eyes went wide. “He murdered your father?”

“In a way, yes.” Thranduil said quietly.  “As soon as he saved Prince Amroth, Halfar quickly took command of the Silvans and set out to find me.  I had been pulled off my horse, and was fighting several Orcs at once, and was about to be killed myself, when he moved in and quickly pulled me up and out of there.”

“My father saved your life…” Rúmil said softly. 

“He did.”

“Tell me, did Amroth follow his father’s lead in this?” The Bowman’s eyes widened.

“Amroth was injured, so he had no say in that day.  But for the rest of the war, he allowed Halfar command the troops, and he gave Feren and me a great deal of guidance.  We lost two-thirds of our people in that War, Rúmil, but make no mistake, if not for your _Adar_ , we would not have survived at all.”

“He… saved your Kingdom?” The Warden’s eyes went wide.

“I believe he did, or at least was a big part of it.  I was deeply grieved when I heard he had died, Rúmil.” Thranduil’s voice grew rough. 

“What happened with Amroth?” Bard asked. “Did he live up to Halfar’s hopes for Lothlórien?”

“Sadly, no; Amroth was a romantic and a dreamer.  There is nothing wrong with such things, of course, but a King must have...a strong constitution, for all too often, he must make unpleasant decisions between what is bad, and what is worse;  between what is easy, and what is right.  Amroth proved to be as weak a King as Amdir, though thankfully not as greedy or devious.”

“How so?”

“I know this story.” Rúmil sighed.  “Amroth turned his back on his people because he was in love with Nimrodel.  She hated the Sindar and Noldor Elves, and refused to even live in Lórien, because of their dealings with other races.”

“This is true,” Thranduil agreed.  “Nimrodel agreed to marry him, but only if he would live elsewhere, away from all that conflict.  He was going to take her to Valinor, but she became lost, and he drowned.”

“So, he left, just like that?” Bard was incredulous.  “He walked out on his responsibilities, and left his people to fend for themselves?  That fucking bastard!”

“I must agree, _Meleth nîn._ But in this case, thanks to the Marchwarden, Lothlórien benefited from his exit.  After Amroth was gone, Halfar looked after his people, and served them admirably, while he sent messages to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel.  It was his idea that they come and rule what is now Lothlórien.”

 _“He_ did that?”  Rúmil gasped.

“Indeed, he did.  In fact, when Amroth expressed his intention to leave, Halfar did not try to dissuade him.  He was an ineffectual ruler anyway, and he had been thinking of others who might fill that role well.” 

“Why didn’t he just become King himself?” Bard asked. 

“Oh, they tried to persuade him, but he refused, because he knew the Galadhrim needed more than what he had to offer.  Galadriel is an extremely powerful Elf, as is her husband, and Lothlórien needed protection.  Rúmil, your father not only saved his own people, but mine as well, and I hold him and his kin in the highest esteem.  It has been my privilege to see that same devotion and strength in you, Warden, and I am happy for the chance to know you.”

“I am, too.” The King of Dale smiled.  “If your brothers are anything like you, Lothlórien is fortunate, and so is the Lord and Lady.”

“Thank you,” Rúmil lowered his eyes, modestly.  “I thank you for sharing this with me…  If you do not mind, I would like to take a walk and,” he smiled, “’digest’ all of this.”

“Of course.” The Elvenking stood up, as did Bard.  “It is a lot to think about, to be sure.” He clasped the Warden’s wrist. “Once again, I must command you to keep this to yourself, but I think that is good that you know.”  He smiled at the Warden.  “Enjoy the rest of your evening, and sleep well, having known your father a bit better.  He is greatly missed, Rúmil, but you shall meet him again, one day, and now that you know, your embrace will be sweeter.”

Rúmil was so moved by the Elvenking’s blessing, all he could manage was an Elven salute.

Bard also held out his hand.  “Hope to see you at the picnic tomorrow.  Good night.” 

After the Warden left, Bard turned to him and wrapped his arms around the Elvenking’s waist.  “You did a good thing, love.”

“I said nothing that was not the truth.” Thranduil kissed the Bowman’s nose.

“I thought…”  Bard shook his head.

“What did you think, _Meleth nîn_?”

“I had this impression that all Elves were wise and… well, better at everything, but it seems you guys have to deal with arseholes just like everyone else.”

“This is true.  I myself was an arsehole for many years.”  He kissed Bard again.  “Thanks to a certain Bowman, I think am slightly more approachable.”

“You’re still hard to impress, though.” Bard’s smirked.  “I had to slay a Dragon, just get you to notice me.”

“You did that for me?”  Thranduil snickered, then took his hand.  “Come, Dragonslayer; let us say good night to our family, then I wish to ‘notice’ even more of you.”

So, they did, and _he_ did.

 

***************

 

**Shores of the Long Lake, 17 th of August 2943 T.A.**

The trek to the Lake took about an hour, and everyone traveled either by horse or wagon.  Bard and Thranduil led the caravan, and neither were surprised at the quiet mood of the people.

“Hilda was right, you know,” Bard said.  “We need to see this again, and to make new memories of the water.”

“I would have thought your people would be happier,” Thranduil looked concerned.  “I am surprised to see them so glum, and serious.”

“I’m not.  I don’t really expect everyone to feel upbeat today, to be honest.  Why do you think Tauriel didn’t want to come?”

“I do not know.  She simply asked if Nualë could go in her stead.” Thranduil shrugged. “Did something happen to her, here?”

Bardclooked over at him. “No, I guess you wouldn’t know...  When she first brought my chikdren and the four Dwarves here, love, Kili told her he lived her, and gave her his mother’s stone.  Then he left for the Mountain...”

”...and the next time she saw him,” Thranduil sighed, “Bolg was plunging a stake into his heart...  I had no idea, Bard.” 

“I see that.  But you were kind enough to let her stay home, and I wouldn’t ask her too much about it, unless she’s uoset when we get back.”

”I will do that.” Thranduil looked around. “I cannot imagine the memories your people had, here.”

”I know.  I was one of the lucky ones.  Stars, when my girls ran up to me, calling my name, I don’t think I’ve ever hugged them so hard...”. The Bowman’s voice trailed off, then he shook himself.  “Today is an important step for my people.”

“How so?”

“We are facing our past, reclaiming our heritage.  We’re back at the waters we have lived on, and is ingrained in our history.  I’m only one of a few who are descended from Dale, love.  Even so, I was born and bred on that Lake and it’s…  part of me.  One day, it Laketown will be rebuilt and part the Kingdom.  I know a lot of my people miss it, and so do I.”

“Dales territories will expand even further, _Meleth nîn,_ and the new Laketown will be a part of it.”

“Maybe so, but one step at a time.  I want Laketown finished in time for Bain to spend few years – get him ready for the Throne.  If I had another son, I could give it to him.  To be honest, I could give it to Sigrid and I think she’d be good at it, but she’s set on becoming a Healer.”

“Sigrid is a strong young woman, but she would be miserable as a Ruler.  Perhaps some other noble, or one of his sons?  I see leadership qualities in Rhys, but his strengths lie in military matters.  I would like to see him remain at Bain’s side, to be to him what Feren is to me.  Given time, and proper education, I think Bowen might grow up to be an excellent leader, if his devotion to his family is any indication.”

“He’s certainly loyal…   We’ll keep an eye on him, and see what happens.”

Thranduil then fell silent after that, and soon, the sound of waves could be heard over the next hill, and the caravan arrived at the shores of the Long Lake.   Bard hadn’t seen it since washing up on the shores on a cold, miserable November day, but now, the sun sparkled like diamonds over the rippling water, and the waves greeted them cheerfully.  There were several boats along the shore, owned by several Men of Dale who still fished the Lake.

The people dismounted and got down from their wagons, and all stood and soaked in the sight. 

There were tears, of course.  Memories flooded everyone’s mind of that day, but soon it was replaced by the sight of an old friend.  This was _their_ Lake; _their_ history, and Bard could see many of them close their eyes, and inhale the familiar smells in the air. 

Bard stood in one of the wagons as the people gathered.  After a Moment of Silence, to remember the fallen, he offered a prayer of thanksgiving to the Valar for all that had survived, and for their chance at a new beginning.  He asked that Ulmo look down upon them all with favor, for they had worked hard, and asked for His continued blessings.

Then the people of Dale spread out their picnic blankets, opened their baskets and after enjoying a meal together, they celebrated.  The Men and women all wore modest bathing outfits traditional to their people, and the Elves (thank goodness) followed their King’s instructions and at least wore their undergarments.   

As the day wore on, the somber mood lifted, and they were laughing and splashing in the waves. 

Tilda had a wonderful time, and spent most of the afternoon attached to Thranduil’s back.  “Swim faster, _Ada!_ Faster!”  Naturally, the Elvenking obliged, and soon only her head and shoulders were visible above the water, as she rode his back and giggled.

Thangon didn’t seem to like the water, and was content to sit on the shore and watch his family, but when he decided Bard was going too far out, he became worried and dove in waves after him. 

“Get off me!” Bard pushed Thangon away and laughed as the dog reached him and tried to ‘save’ him.  “You’re going to drown us both, you fool. Now come on; settle down, boy...” 

Eventually, the dog calmed down, and as soon as he was satisfied his master and family were in minimal danger, turned and headed back to the beach.  Suddenly, he began to bark.  “Woof!  Woof!” swam off to Bard’s left. 

“What’s the matter?”  Bard treaded water and looked to where the dog was heading, and saw a boy flailing frantically and shouting. 

“Oh, gods…”  It was Ethan, Llewelyn and Seren’s oldest boy. 

“Bain! Sigrid!  Help me!”  Bard yelled, and frantically swam towards the child.  Up ahead, he saw Thangon reach the child and dove under to try and lift him up.  The boy scrabbled for a hold on the dog and became hysterical.

“Hang on Ethan!  I’m coming!”  Bard’s arms and legs sliced through the water at a frantic pace. 

“Right behind you, Da!”  He could hear his daughter shout behind him.

Finally, he reached the boy, and managed to flip him around and hold him against his chest with his arm firmly across his front.  “I’ve got you son.  I’ve got you…”  The boy struggled, then suddenly relaxed, as Bard took them to the shallow water.  Thangon closely followed them both, and whined as he swam.

“Is he breathing, Da?” Sigrid called.

“I don’t know. We need to get him on the beach, and see for sure.” 

Once they had their feet on solid ground, Bard stood and carried the boy ashore, with Thangon barking frantically.  Sigrid joined him and wiped the water out of her eyes.  Ethan’s eyes were closed, and he looked very pale.

“Get him on the ground, now!” Sigrid ordered.  Get some blankets!” Bard laid him down, as Sigrid checked his breathing, and held her ear against his chest.  Then she pinched the boy’s nose covered his mouth with hers, and blew several breaths.  Then she rolled him on his side, as Ethan coughed and vomited an alarming amount of water, just as Seren ran up, with Liliwen on her hip, with Liam beside her, crying.

Hilda headed her off.  “Just let them work, love,” she soothed the frantic mother, then called over to Elénaril, who had seen the commotion and was making her way over with remarkable speed, despite being heavily pregnant.  “Hurry!  Let her through, people!”  Then Hilda called out for extra blankets and put her arm around Seren.

By the time the Healer reached them, the boy was crying for his mother, and everyone was breathing a sigh of relief.  Still, she checked the boy out thoroughly.  “He’s got a bit of a rattle in his lungs, but otherwise, he seems fine.” The Healer waved his worried mother over, and wrapped him up in one of the blankets someone offered.

Seren handed her daughter to Hilda and knelt and grabbed her son.  “Oh, my boy…  Oh, thank Ulmo…”  She kissed his forehead.  “What happened, Ethan?”

“I was swimming, and then I got a pain in my side…  I shouldn’t have been so far out, Mam; I’m sorry.   I know you said to stay near the beach, but I didn’t realize, honest!”

“You’re just out of practice, that’s all.” Seren smoothed his bangs from his forehead, and kissed it.  “Can you stand?”

“I would prefer it if he rested the rest of the day,” Elénaril said. “And I want him seen at the Healing House, tomorrow.”

“No problem,” Bard scooped him up.  “Sigrid, give her a hand getting back up, would you please? Where’s your blanket, Seren?” 

“We don’t have to go home, do we?” Ethan looked up at Bard.  “I was having fun, honest.”

“As long as you stay with your Mam, I don’t see why you all couldn’t stay, right?” Bard looked toward the Healer, who nodded.

“Just sit quietly, out of the sun.  You will most likely feel tired, so if you need to nap, please do so.”

“I’ll stay nearby,” Sigrid offered, as she supported Elénaril’s elbow. “I’m done swimming anyway.”

Elénaril smiled at the girl.  “You did well, My Lady.  This could have been much worse.”

Sigrid blushed.  “Thank you.”

Bard’s chest swelled with pride, and he smiled.  Thranduil was right; their daughter was born to serve her people as a Healer, not an administrator. 

By the time Bard and Sigrid settled Ethan with his family and a cool drink, the crowd had dispersed.  Bain turned toward him, with awe on his face.  “Wow… Sig knows her stuff, doesn’t she?”

“That she does.” Bard put his arm around his son’s shoulders. 

Just then Thranduil came up, with Tilda still riding on his back.  “Is everything all right?”

“Aye.” Bard said.  “It really is.”

 

***************

**City of Dale, 27 th of August 2943 T.A.**

At last, it was time for the Wardens to say farewell to their friends in Dale.  Last week, the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain gave a feast in their honor, which took them all several days to recover from, and today, Bard stood on the dais of the Great Hall and gave a speech, thanking them for their dedication and service. 

At the feast afterward, many of the residents came forward with small gifts for them, and they were received with much appreciation. 

Thranduil smiled when he saw Ivran dancing with Warden Cwën.  “I think they will be happy together, _Meleth nîn_.”

“I do, too.” Bard leaned against him. “Did Celeborn decide to allow Cwën to live here, or will we be losing Ivran?”

“It was decided that the need was greater here, at least for now.” He leaned forward and whispered.  “Do not say anything, but her parents have joined the Lord and Lady, and are on their way.  They wanted to surprise their daughter, and meet the Guardian who has stolen her heart.  I would also imagine, once they are here, a betrothal ceremony will be held.”

“I didn’t know Elves had ceremonies for that.  Usually among my people, it’s a private thing; then some people have a party afterward.”

“Elves usually exchange silver rings, which then are replaced with golden ones at the wedding.”

Bard looked up at him in surprise.  “Our rings are silver, though.”

“They are made from Mithril, _Meleth nîn_ , and will last for centuries.  I am very glad they do not resemble typical Elven rings,” he grinned, as he held up his ring finger. “Nothing about my marriage to you is typical, is it?”

“No,” Bard smiled back, “it’s not.” 

“What was your ring made of when you were with Mattie?”

“I didn’t have one.  Couldn’t afford it, but she had a plain gold one.  I had it in a box, to give to Sigrid when she was old enough, along with the set of keys my Da gave her to play with when she was a baby.  It’s probably sitting at the bottom of the Lake, along with the rest of my house.”

“When we go back to my Palace, I will show you the rings Mírelen and I exchanged.  I have saved them for Legolas, along with some other things.”

“That necklace you gave Tauriel for her birthday a couple of weeks ago… That was Mírelen’s wasn’t it?”  They had had a small family party to celebrate her begetting-day and her _Ada_ had presented her with a small emerald-and-gold necklace.

“Yes, it was.  While we were at the Palace getting Bain his horse, I decided I wanted her to have it, and brought it back with me.”

“That’s sweet of you, love.” Bard turned to watch the Wardens, as they enjoyed themselves.  “It’s really not going to be the same without them, is it?”

“No.  But our Guardians will return, and I have missed them.”

“I’ll be happy to see Daeron; I don’t really know the other ones, besides Elion.”

“He is now a Captain, and will be serving in the Realm, after he and Warden Airen are married.”  Thranduil observed their daughter sitting at the head table, picking at an invisible thread in her sleeve.  “Ah…  _Meleth nîn_ , I think it is time to ask a beautiful woman to dance with me.”  He leaned in to whisper, “Do not turn around, but Sigrid is looking a bit woeful.”

Bard gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “Then I think the most beautiful Elf in the room should give her some attention.”

“That will be no burden.  Excuse me.”

Thranduil got to his feet, then went to Sigrid and put his hand on her shoulder.  “May I dance with the loveliest girl here?”

“Oh, _Ada;_ you’re just saying that…”  Sigrid said, but she looked relieved. 

He took her hand and kissed it. “I am not. You do look very beautiful tonight, and I want you to dance in the arms of someone who loves you very much.  You must indulge me, for as much as I adore your father, he is not nearly as good a dancer as you, and I do not wish to have my toes stepped on.”

She giggled and stood. “Then who am I to turn down such a kind request, My Lord?”

He led her to the dance floor, just as a slow waltz began,  “Ah… Do you recall your birthday at the Palace?  I believe I danced with you to the same song.”

“That’s right!” she brightened a little.   

“Once again, your jewelry sparkles in the light, but not nearly as much as your eyes.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder.  “I love you, _Ada_.”

“And I treasure you, _Iellig._ ”  He kissed her hair.  “Every day, I see you grow into the woman you will one day become, and it makes my heart sing.  You are a credit to your father, and to your family,” he turned and looked into her eyes.  “and you are a credit to yourself.”

She looked up at him, as he slowed down his steps. “Do you really think so?”

“I know so, my Sigrid.”

She leaned against him and sighed.  “Thanks, _Ada_.”

 

***************

 

**The Woodland Realm, 26 th of August 2943 T.A.:**

Daeron sighed, as their party saw the trees of the Woodland Realm in the distance, and began to approach the Gate. 

“Home…” he murmured.  “I did not realize how much I loved it, until now.”

Elion, who was riding next to him, smiled.  “Me, either.   Despite the decay and the spiders…  I think I love it more now.  After spending time in a forest that was everything it was meant to be, I feel determined to protect our home, and pray it can be restored again.”

“It would be wonderful, but also bittersweet, Elion.” Daeron mused.  “We are reaching the end times, I think, and it would be sad to finally see the forest as it was meant to be, then leave these shores so soon after.”

“I know what you mean,” Elion said thoughtfully.  “In fact, if we do win the Final War, I do not think Airen and I would wish to leave.  We both feel our place is here, on Middle Earth.”

“What if we lose, and Sauron triumphs?”

“We will stay, until every last scrap of hope is gone, or give our lives in the attempt.  I have fought for this forest for almost two thousand years, Daeron!  How could I so easily turn away?”

And all of a sudden, Daeron realized he felt the same way.  He had no pull towards the sea, but the love for Yavanna and all her works was in his very blood.   And if he was able to marry Rhian, as he hoped, any hope of seeing Valinor would be gone, anyway. 

“ _Mellon nîn,_  I think I agree.  I do not think I will leave these shores, either, though my heart and my place is to protect Dale,  until there is not a breath left in my body.”

 

The party stopped at the Gates of the Greenwood, and the Lord and Lady dismounted and bowed before the stature of Queen Mírelen, and paid homage.

“I see someone has cared for her.”

“We did, My Lady,” Airen spoke up. “When we left last year, we took some time to clean her off.”

“You have done well.” Galadriel praised Airen and the other Guardians.  “She was a strong and worthy Queen, and deserves no less.”

“Welcome home, Guardians,” Celeborn smiled at them.  “Let us hasten to the Palace, where I am sure your families are awaiting anxiously.”

 

They continued their North-Eastern trek for two more days, until finally, _finally,_ the tall, graceful doors of Thranduil’s Palace appeared!

Daeron’s heart pounded in his chest.  His family was behind those doors.  Of course, he’d been separated from them many, many times, but this was different, and he ached to see them.

 _And she would be there…_   At that thought, he absent-mindedly rubbed is chest.  _Rhian…_  

“Daeron?” Elion smiled.  “Shall we?”

“You are the Captain.” the Lieutenant grinned. “Lead the way!”

The horns blew announcing their arrival, and the doors swung open, as the party trotted across the bridge.  Cheers could be heard from inside the Palace and grew louder as the Lord and Lady entered.  The party dismounted, then were taken to the Throne Room, where the King of the Woodland Realm received them, then descended the steps of his throne and bowed with all respect to his guests, as did his Consort, King Bard and the rest of his family. 

Daeron stood at attention with the rest of his unit, but barely concealed a grin at the sight of little Princess Tilda, who was clasping her hands together and practically jumping up and down with excitement.  She looked cute, in a light blue dress, and a narrow diamond-encrusted headband.  She waved at him, and he winked at her, then she waved at the Lord and Lady, and would have run to them but for Lady Hilda, who grabbed her arm and whispered to her to wait until after the ceremony.

“You’ll get to see them, Little Bean, but we must pay them the proper courtesies, first.” Daeron heard her whisper.

“But I wanna see Gallerdil!” Tilda said, a little too loudly, and everyone in the Throne Room laughed.

Thranduil held out his hand.  “Come forth, _Tithen Pen_.”

Tilda let go of Hilda’s hand a raced over to her _Ada_ , who took her up in his arms.  “You must pardon our little one, My Lady.  She has hardly been able to rest, out of eagerness to see you.”

Galadriel laughed with delight. _“Ni veren an dhe ngovaned a vedui, Princess Tilda!”_

Tilda lowered her head and gave the best Elven salute she could manage while in Thranduil’s arms.  _“Dhe suilannon, Lady Gallerdil!”_ she said brightly, “I didn’t know you’d be all ‘glowy like that!’” Tilda then turned to the Lord of the Golden Wood.  “ _Dhe suilannon, Lord Celebornd!”_

Celeborn bowed his head and said, _“Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn, Brennil Vuin.”_ He kissed the little girl’s hand and grinned at Thranduil.  “You have quite the little Ambassador, do you not?”

“We do indeed, _Ettā_.  Please allow me to introduce her father and my husband, Bard, son of Brand, King of Dale.”

Galadriel offered her hand to a flabbergasted Bard, who kissed it with the utmost courtesy.  “Well met, My Lord and Lady.  Please, allow me to thank you again, for my daughter’s health.  Were it not for your efforts, Tilda would not be alive to break Royal Protocol in such a fashion.”

The Lady of the Golden Wood laughed.  “It was my pleasure, King Bard.  I am happy to meet the Man who has brought a light into our dear cousin’s eyes once more.”

Celeborn stepped forward and saluted.  “Lord Bard, I am honored to meet you.  You are everything Thranduil said you would be, and I congratulate you both on the occasion of your marriage.”

“Please; allow me to introduce you to the rest of our family,” Thranduil took them over to where the children were standing with Hilda and Percy.   Hilda stared at them in amazement, and curtsied so low Percy had to help her back up.  He bowed, and tried to say something, but couldn’t seem to manage it, but for a nod. 

“This is Bain, son of Bard, Crown Prince of Dale.” Thranduil was saying. 

“My Lord Bain,” Galadriel bowed her head. “I am honored.” 

“I… am honored to make your acquaintance, My Lady; My Lord.”

Daeron watched, as she looked deeply into the boy’s eyes and held his gaze for a few moments.  Bain had grown during the past year, and his voice was lower.  The Guard could see shadows of the man - the King - he would become, one day.

Sigrid was introduced, and the Lady gave her a kind smile, then looked at her for several seconds.  Daeron knew Galadriel was “seeing” her, much the same as she did when he first arrived.  Bain had seemed slightly uncomfortable with it, but Sigrid seemed embarrased, then greatly relieved, as if they held a silent conversation, and the girl was relieved of some sort of burden.

“Thank you, My Lady,” the Princess curtsied.

Daeron smiled at his parents, his Aunt Indis and Uncle Ómar.  Turamarth was standing beside Hilda and he couldn’t help but smile when their eyes met.

He wasn’t surprised that Rhian wasn’t in the Throne Room.  She was probably waiting with Darryn in the Royal Wing somewhere.  At that thought, his heart began to pound again, and his stomach flipped. 

He wanted to see his family, of course, but he needed to see his _Hind Calen_ , and his hunger for her became unbearable.

After a short speech to welcome the returning Guardians home, they were dismissed and Daeron ran over to hug his family. 

“I am so happy to see you, _Ion nîn!”_ Idril exclaimed.  “You look wonderful!”

“I have missed you all!” Daeron said, and hugged her again.  “It is so good to see you!”

Adamar embraced him.  “Are you glad you went?” he whispered.

“Yes, _Ada_.” Daeron murmured back.  “I will never forget it.”

“Then I am happy for you.” Adamar stepped back. “You have grown; I see it in your face.”

“Where is my hug?” Indis pushed forward and embraced him.  “Oh, my dear nephew…  My heart shines to see you like this.  Are you well, truly?”

“I am, Aunt.” 

Turamarth came up and grabbed him, and hugged him, hard.  “Welcome home, _Gwador_ , although I will miss Rúmil; he was much neater than you ever were.”

“Admit it; you missed picking up after me,” Daeron returned his cousin’s embrace, then looked around.  “Where is Rhian?  Is she waiting with Lord Ben and Darryn?”

Tur looked at his parents then back at him.  “Lord Ben is here, but Rhian…”

“What?  What is wrong?”  Daeron’s heart nearly stopped.  “Is she all right?”

“She is fine; I promise.  It was just that Darryn has a slight cold, and she did not want to leave him in Dale.”

“Oh,” his heart sank, and he tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.  “I see…”

Turamarth smiled and put his arm around his shoulders.  “That is why you are going to take _Sandastan_ and ride him to Dale this afternoon.”

“Your horse?  But I cannot; I—”

“Yes, you can.  I spoke with Lord Thranduil before you arrived, and it is all settled.  You can borrow some of my clothes in our apartment,” he handed Daeron the key, “ and we will bring the rest of your luggage later.” He nudged the Guardian.  “You know you want to, _Gwador_ ; now, go.”

“ _Ada_?  _Nana_?” he looked at his parents eagerly. “You will not mind?”

“Go; with our blessing, _Ion nîn_.  We will see you in a few days.”

Daeron looked at his family.  “I love you all very much…”

Tur laughed.  “Why are you still here?  My horse was saddled as soon as you arrived, and is waiting at the stables, with some snacks and drinks.  Begone!”

After a loving look of gratitude, the Daeron raced through the Palace and was off.

 

When he reached the plains before Dale, his heart sang.  There were the high walls of his home, and his love - his _life -_ was waiting there for him.  He urged Sandastan to go faster, and clung to his dun-colored mane as they raced.  He smiled and sang with joy, as the horns blew, and after he identified himself, the Western Gates opened to let him through.

“Thank you!” he called out to the Gatekeepers.

“Welcome home, lad!” the man called back.

Daeron raced through the streets and up toward the Courtyard, then turned left at the last street before its entrance. 

He was on the street where she lived. 

And she was in that last house on the right.  She was there…

_At last…  Thank you, Varda, Queen of the Stars…_

His hands shook as he brought Sandastan to a stop, and when he dismounted, he was dismayed at how weak his legs felt.  He stopped and forced himself to take some calming breaths.

 _“Ci athae,_ _Mellon_ _nîn_.” He whispered to the horse, as he stroked his nose.  “You have brought me to my future.”

Sandastan butted him hard in the shoulder, pushing him away, as if to say, _what are you waiting for?_

Daeron took more deep breaths and walked up the porch and lifted his hand to knock, but noticed the front door was partially open.  For a second, he panicked, thinking something terrible had happened, but then he heard a female voice singing.

_It’s her…  She’s on the other side of the door…_

His hands were still trembling, and he couldn’t make them stop, so he quietly pushed the door open, and entered the house, following the voice of the woman he had loved for so long.

And there she was…

His Rhian.

Daeron’s hand went up to his mouth to stifle a sob that had escaped.  She was facing away from him, singing a lovely song about spring:

_“The rose puts on her red;_

_The leaves on the trembling trees_

_Grow forth with eagerness._

_The moon sends forth her brightness…”_

Her hair was half up; the rest cascading in brown waves to the middle of her back, and she was wearing a dress of green, and he could see the ties of an apron in the back, as she held a large bowl of something she was mixing with a wooden spoon.

 _Ai, ma… She is so beautiful_ , he thought, and his eyes filled with tears at the sight.  Never in his life would he forget this moment…

He took a step closer, and reached out for her, just as she turned around still looking down at the bowl full of batter.

“Rhian,” he whispered softly. “ _Hind Calen_ , _Meleth_   _nîn_ …”

She looked up and saw him, and Daeron's heart nearly leaped out of his chest at the sight of her beautiful face...

Her eyes flew open wide, and she gasped.

.

.

.

 _“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!”_ Her screams filled the air as the contents in her arms went flying. 

 _“Ai!”_ His hand flew to his eye, after the wooden spoon struck him. _“Naeg!”_

Then the huge bowl flew at him, painfully knocking him backward, and covering him with cake batter.

  _ **“** AMARTHFAEG **!”**_

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Ni veren an dhe ngovaned a vedui, Princess Tilda!_ – I am happy to meet you at last, Princess Tilda!

 _Dhe suilannon_ – I give greetings to you

 _Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn, Brennil Vuin –_ A star shines on the hour of our meeting, Beloved Lady.

 _AI!  NAEG! -_ EEK! OUCH!

 _AMARTH FAEG! -_ EVIL FATE!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] From “An Invincible Summer,” CH 21:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/14127870/chapters/35171138
> 
> [2] From “And Winter Came…”  CH 25:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026709/chapters/30297879


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Royal Family enjoys a private visit from Celeborn and Galadriel in Thranduil’s chambers, and the Lord and Lady have gifts for everyone, but little Tilda’s present steals the show.
> 
> Rhian has been on pins and needles, waiting for the Guardians to return home and plans out a perfect, romantic reunion…
> 
> But it doesn’t quite work out that way…

 

 

 

“It wasn't that long, and it certainly wasn't the kind of kiss you see in movies these days, but it was wonderful in its own way, and all I can remember about the moment is that when our lips touched, I knew the memory would last forever.”

** ― Nicholas Sparks, A Walk to Remember **

 

 

**The Woodland Realm, 28 th of August 2943 T.A.**

After the Guardians had been dismissed, Bard and Thranduil approached the Lord and Lady.

“I have arranged for a private meal with you and your Wardens tonight, but my family and I would be honored if you would join us afterward in our Chambers.”

“Please come!” Tilda smiled, still in her _Ada’s_ arms. “Then I can show you my room!”

“Who could turn down such a generous offer?” Celeborn smiled. “We would be honored to attend, _Ettā_.”

“Excellent!  Enjoy your visit with Rúmil and the others, and we will meet you, then.”

After the formal courtesies were observed, everyone left the Throne Room. 

Tilda squirmed to be put down, but she still held Thranduil’s hand.  “Wow…”

“Why do you say that, my little love?”

“She _was_ ‘glowy,’ wasn’t she?”

“You aren’t imagining it, Beanie,” Bard said.  “She did seem to…shine, a little.” He looked over at his son. “You look a bit pole-axed, Bain.  What did you think of the Lord and Lady?”

“She is…  wow…”

“Pretty?” The Bowman jabbed his son.  “Homely?  What?”

“No, not pretty.  She’s _gorgeous!”_ the young boy shook his head.  “I didn’t know girls could look like that.”

“They do not, and she is hardly a girl.” Thranduil tried to hide his smile.  “Galadriel is a Noldor Elf, who was born and raised in Valinor, under the Light of the Two Trees.  Sigrid was not exaggerating when she said The Lady was special.  She is the most powerful and important Elf on Middle Earth today.”

“Whatever, I just…  when she looked at me, it seemed like she could see what I was thinking.”

“Oh, boy...” Bard winked at his husband.  “Let’s hope you were thinking good thoughts, then.”

“Da-a!” The boy looked mortified.

“Do not tease, _Meleth nîn_.” Thranduil smirked.  “After all, Bain was bound to discover the opposite sex sooner or later…”

“ _Ada!”_ Bain stopped, and his face grew red.  “That’s not—"

“What? Fair?” Sigrid quipped. “After you embarrassed me at dinner that night?  Now you know what it feels like!”

“Hey!  I apologized!  Then I had to shovel horse manure for weeks!”

“All right, children.” Bard laughed.  “I hope you behave later, or your poor Auntie Hil will faint.”

“Hmm?”  Hilda was lost in thought and heard her name called.  “What?”

“Don’t mind her,” Percy teased, as he pulled her hand into his crooked elbow.  “She’s a bit taken with Lord Celeborn, I think.”

“I am not!  I just…never saw hair that was…so…silver, that’s all!”

“And you never saw hair so blonde, when you first met Thranduil, didn’t you?”

“I rather thought you liked my hair,” the Elvenking sighed.  “I am sad to know I was just passing fancy.”

“And I seem to remember you remarking how tall the Galadhrim were…” Percy sighed, “It’s kind of you to still want a homely, balding old man like me.”

“Percy!” Hilda smacked him.

“No, no; I understand, love.  You have a ‘type,’ so I’ll just have to start shaving and grow out my hair…  Thranduil, do Elves ever make wigs?  I’ll talk to the cobbler and have him put lifts in my boots, so I’ll be a foot taller…”

“Percy…” she warned.

“…I’ll probably fall and break my ankles, but hey!” He leered at his wife,  “If you go for the tall, thin ones, I’ll do _anything_ to turn you on.  It would be fun, wouldn’t it?”

“Stop!  Please!” Bain looked horrified and covered his ears.

 _“Ewww!”_ Sigrid made a face.

“What?” Tilda asked.  “How could Auntie Hil turn Uncle Percy ‘on?’”

“Never you mind, Little Bean,” Bard snickered.  “We’ll explain when you’re a bit older.”

 

Later, there was a knock on their door, and Ivran and Ruvyn announced the Lord and Lady’s arrival.

“Please!  Come in!”  Thranduil welcomed them, then embraced each of them.  “May I offer you some wine?”

“I would love some, but first, we have some gifts.” Celeborn smiled.  “They are waiting outside.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” Bard smiled and bowed his head, “although hardly necessary, after all you’ve done for us.  We should be giving you the gifts.”

“It was no effort, Lord Bard.” Galadriel smiled. “The sight of your healthy children is reward enough.”

“If you would, please call me Bard.  We try to drop the formality at the door.”

“A wise policy, Bard,” She agreed.  “And you must refer to me as simply ‘Galadriel.’”  She turned back to the door, as her servants brought in several packages. 

“For you, _Ettā_ _Thranduil,”_ she handed him a small box.  “My granddaughter Arwen sends you this, in memory of her former handmaiden, whom she loved dearly.”

Thranduil opened it, so see an oval miniature, of a small Elfling with brown hair and eyes.  “Oh…”

“Evidently her parents had it done years ago, and must have left it behind.  Arwen kept it as a reminder, but she wants you to have it.”

The children gathered around him, to see.  “She was so cute!”  Sigrid breathed.

“Her hair was a lot darker than mine,” Tilda observed.  “Her ears were so big!”

“All Elves have bigger ears, _Tithen Pen_ ; we grow into them when we grow older.”  Thranduil said, still staring at the small object in his hand.  “Thank you, _Mellyn nîn_.”

“You are more than welcome.” Celeborn stepped forward and embraced him. “We are delighted to see you whole, once more.” He whispered, and hugged him tighter.  “I worried for you, for a long time, _Ettā_ , and my heart sings at your happiness.  You are fortunate indeed to have a husband who encourages your affection toward Mírelen.  It shows the highest quality, even among Men.”

Thranduil couldn’t speak, but he returned his cousin’s embrace. 

“And for the King of Dale,” Galadriel regarded him with a smile.  “I have seen that you have no desire gold, jewels and such, for you revere the health and safety of your people.  For that I name you and your family ‘Elf-friend.’”

“These are for your children and their descendants. She handed him a box with golden markers, on thin chains. “These will guarantee them Lothlórien’s help and protection, should the need ever arise.

 “I have another gift, one of foresight, which I am happy to share,” she came closer and whispered.  “Your son will follow his father’s excellent example, and be a good and just King.  He will be loved by his people, as will his son, and his son’s son, as Dale grows and prospers.  Beyond that, I cannot see, but I hope this brings you comfort and encouragement.”

“Thank you,” Bard was moved.  “This means… more than you can imagine.”

She stepped back, as Celeborn handed Sigrid a tiny box.  In it was a signet ring, bearing no jewel, but the image of a tall goblet, with wings.  “This is a Healer’s Seal, _hënig._ This was sent to you by the Master Healer of Lothlórien.  He has been impressed with Daeron’s stories of you, and humbly requests that you wear this gift, when you complete your training and begin to practice your art.”

Sigrid gave him a radiant smile.  “I would be honored.  Thank you so much!”  On impulse, she threw her arms around the Lord of the Golden Wood. “Thank you!”

“You are most welcome, child.” He laughed, as he returned her embrace.  “Still,” he pulled back, “I warn you: this profession can be all-consuming, much like the role of a King or Queen, and you must work hard to keep a balance in your life.  Follow your fathers’ example and leave your work at the door, when you enter your home, for family is what will give you the life and energy to serve others.” He held her chin up.  “Do you promise this?”

“I will,” she swallowed.  “I promise.”

“That is well,” Galadriel looked into her eyes for several moments, then said, “Your One will not come from Dale, yet you will remain here and happily so, and you will give birth to the first grandchild.  Your son will be beloved by all the Kings of the North, and you will have difficulty keeping them from spoiling your children.” She grinned at the Kings, then whispered.  “But do not be in a hurry to grow up too soon, young Sigrid; your fathers are not ready to let their beloved daughter go, just yet.” She winked.

“Now, Bain,” Celeborn handed him a bundle. “These are used by my Wardens.  They, too, must follow Elven tradition and earn their first swords, and I would not deny your _Ada_ that opportunity.  Still, I do not think he would mind if I give you this.”

Bain unwrapped the soft cloth, to reveal a set of fighting knives, with curved blades and dark wooden handles, accented with gold.  “Wow!  These look like the ones Legolas had!”

“And well they should, for his were a gift from us, as well, when he was the equivalent to your age.  And here,” he handed him another bundle, “Are dull knives of similar weight to train with.  I have heard of your natural prowess with the sword, Bain, but your prowess with these and the Bow will only help to ensure your safety, and be an example to your Army.”

“They’re amazing!”  Bain held one up, still in its scabbard to admire the handiwork. 

Celeborn gave the young Prince a serious look.  “As a future King, you must work twice as hard, be twice as vigilant, and bear much more than your people can imagine.  This burden can often seem terrible, Bain, and you will become discouraged and frustrated, but do not give up.  As a leader, you will have very few friends that you can truly depend upon, yet lean on them, listen to them, and do not disregard their honest advice.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Bain stood tall and proud, as he nodded his head.

“Now, we come to you, little Tilda.”  Galadriel smiled at their youngest.  She stood beside her tall _Ada_ , swinging her skirts back and forth and giggling into her hands. 

Celeborn bent down on one knee and smiled.  “Little Princess, when last we spoke, I had to give you the sad news that your friend Esta had passed away.   I know you miss her terribly.”

She gave a little frown, and nodded her head, as she took her _Ada’s_ hand..  “She was my best friend.”

“You have honored her memory, I think.  I see that you have worked hard to stay brave.”

“Not always, though.” Tilda admitted.  “I got scared when the Harad came, and hid in my room.”

“Ah, but, you came out, of your own free will, did you not?”

“Well,” she looked down.  “Ruvyn sat with me, but after a while, I wanted to try.”

Celeborn stroked her hair.  “You see? And I am sure your family was proud of you.”

“We certainly were,” Bard agreed.  “She and King Abdullon became friends, didn’t you, Little Bean?”

“Uh huh.  He’s real nice, and has lots and lots of grandchildren.”

“Your skills as Ambassador are legendary,” Celeborn chuckled.  “As much you loved Esta, do you think perhaps you might find room in your heart for another friend?”

Tilda was confused. “But we’re friends already, aren’t we?” She looked up at Galadriel, “Even though I just met you, we wrote letters so that means we’re friends, too.”

“This is true, Tilda,” Galadriel smiled down at her.  “What my husband means is someone you have yet to meet.”

“Who?”

“Excuse me, for just a moment,” Celeborn stood up straight and went to fetch something just outside the door.  He returned with a basket with a lid, and placed in on the floor in front of the little girl.

“What is it?”

There were scratching sounds coming from the basket, and Sigrid and Bain knelt down on either side of her.  “Open it, Til!” Bain grinned.

She lifted the lid and out popped a little head, with a yip. 

“A **_PUPPY!_**   OH, IT’S **_A PUPPY!”_** Tilda screamed at the top of her lungs and jumped up and down. “ _Ada!  Da!  I got a puppy!”_

It was indeed a puppy, with black ears, a tan coat, and a cute, wrinkled black face.  It looked around the room and began to whine as he tried to jump out of the basket. 

“Isn’t it sweet?” Sigrid grinned and laughed.  “Look at the cute little face!”

“Oh…” Tilda plopped on the carpet and lifted the small, squirming pup into her arms.  “You’re so cute…” then she laughed as it began to cover her face with kisses. 

“Do you like her?”  Celeborn asked.

“Is it a girl?” Tilda then lifted the squirming bundle, whose corkscrew tail was blur from excitement, and checked. “ _It’s a girl!_ ” 

“Where did you find her?” Thranduil asked.

“You can thank Daeron.  He befriended a young couple from a village called Langhold, whose mother breeds them.  He suggested we buy her for Tilda.” He laughed. “She hardly ever rode in her basket.  Most of us took turns tucking her into our tunics and letting her ride with us.”

“This is perfect.” Bard smiled.  “Tilda's been a bit lost without Esta.”  They looked on, as Tilda stroked her cheek against its soft fur, and cooed over her new little friend.

 Sigrid rubbed her sister’s back. “Come on, Til.  Let’s take her outside,” Sigrid grabbed her hand.  “She’s been cooped up in that basket, so let’s let her run around _Ada’s_ garden, yeah?”

“I might as well take Thangon out, too, while we’re at it,” Bain got up.  “ _Tulë_ _Thangon_!”

“NO!” Tilda cried, holding the pup closer.  “Thangon will eat her!”

“He will not, _Tithen Pen_.” Thranduil promised.  “Still, take him a fair distance away from the girls, Bain.”

“I will, _Ada_.  See you guys later!”

After they were seated, Thranduil put his arm around Bard’s shoulder, and raised his glass and toasted his guests.

Celeborn also offered a toast.  “Truly, my dear Cousin, it does my heart good to see you in bliss.  Mírelen would be happy for you.”

But Galadriel looked closely at the Elvenking, and a smile slowly spread across her features.  “I believe she has said as much to you in person, has she not?”

“You are very perceptive,” Thranduil chuckled.  “Nothing much gets past you, does it?”

“Does she do that a lot?” Bard asked Celeborn.

“She does,” the Lord of Lothlórien grinned, and kissed his wife’s hand.  “I would not have her any other way.” He settled back and made himself comfortable. Now then, tell us this story my wife is obviously referring to.”

“Well, you see, I had hurt my leg pretty badly last year, and Thranduil…”

 

Later, everyone was getting settled in bed, and Tilda was in her room, arguing with her parents about where the puppy should sleep.  “I want her with me, Da!  Won’t she be sad in her basket by herself?”

“If I let her stay with you, you’ll be playing with her all night instead of sleeping.”

“But I’ll _miss her,”_ She turned her blue eyes full-blast on Bard, but he was adamant.

“She’s still just a baby, Little Bean. What if she crawls around and falls off the bed?  She could get hurt, not to mention she’s liable to poop and pee all over your quilt.   _Ada_ and I will look after her.”

“Tilda,” Thranduil told her. “Your Da is right.  You need your rest, so we will keep her with us.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Good night, _Tithen Pen_.”

Tilda sighed.  “You’ll take good care of her?”

“Promise.” Bard held out the squirmy bundle.  “Give her a kiss.  Now close your eyes, and start thinking about what you want to name her.”

“All right,” she sighed.  “Good night, Da.”

They turned her lamp down low, then closed her door.

“May I hold her now?” Thranduil held out his hands.

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten your mitts on her sooner, to be honest,” Bard teased.  “You and babies...”

They went out to the sitting room, and Thranduil set her on the floor, near Thangon, then put his arm around  his Bowman, as they watched the puppy acquaint herself with him.

After a few seconds of hesitation, the small pup, who looked like a tiny version of Thangon, barked at him, to let him know she was here.  Thangon raised his head, and tilted it back and forth, eyeing her closely.

Bard laughed.  “She’s not afraid of him at all is she?”

As if in response, the pup growled and attempted a few authoritative barks, which came out as squeaks.  Her whole heart went into these efforts, as with each little yip, all four paws left the ground.  Thangon’s eyebrows went up and down, and whined, then lowered his nose to give this tiny interloper a sniff.  Not to be outdone, the brave little pug-nosed dog walked closer, and sniffed him right back, and her corkscrew tail was a blur.

Bard leaned his head on Thranduil’s shoulder.  “I want you to draw this, love.”

“Another scene for our book.” The Elvenking agreed. 

 

 

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 28 th of August 2943 T.A.**

Rhian sighed, for what must have been the hundredth time that day. 

Three days ago, she’d been bitterly disappointed when Darryn came down with a cold, right before they were scheduled to go to the Palace to greet the Guardians.

“I could stay with him, sweetheart.” Ben offered.

“No, Da; you’ve got business to take care of.  I was just going to go along for the ride, to see Daeron.  Besides, you know how cranky the baby gets when he’s not feeling well, and he only wants me.  I can’t leave him when he’s so miserable.”

“What did Ermon say about it?”

“Darryn’s lungs are good, and so are his ears, thank the Stars.  He’s just stuffy, but we’re keeping a close eye.  I’ve got some stuff to put into a steam.”

“I’m sorry, love.” Ben hugged her and kissed her hair.  “I know how much you wanted to go.”

“I did, but there’s no sense in getting upset.   You’ll all be back later this week, and by then Darryn will be better.”

The next day, she helped her Da pack, and sent him off to join the rest of the Wardens and the Royal Family, with a kiss on the cheek and a brave smile. 

“Be good, _Babinod,”_   Ben kissed Darryn’s warm little head and stroked his dark curls.

“Can you say goodbye to your Grandad?” Rhian smiled at the baby in her arms.

“Bye-by, Gada!”  Darryn lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in to a fist several times.  “Bye-by!”

Then he was off, and the house was quiet.   Rhian rolled her eyes, and groaned.  She loved her son; she really did, but _every part_ of her wanted to be on that wagon!

What to do with herself?  There was nothing to do at the Castle, because Hilda had gone with the rest of the Family, Tauriel took advantage of their absence and went to Erebor for a visit.  Alun and Feren were officially in charge of the City, with King Dáin ready to step in should something happen.

“Well, Little Man, let’s get that nose taken care of.” She put him in his playpen, and set some water to boil on the stove.  Then she put some into a bowl, with some eucalyptus oil and sat under a large towel with him in her lap, as she sang him some songs and told stories.

“What do you think, sweetie?  We’ll hide under here for a while, yeah? Are we hiding, sweetie?”

Darryn leaned against her chest and nodded. He hadn’t slept well the night before, and was a bit limp.  She continually wiped his nose, and tried to teach him to blow, but all he managed was a few raspberries, which made them both smile.  Still, the steam loosened things up and he began to sneeze, which helped.

When she lifted the towel off, the cooler air felt wonderful. 

“Are you hungry?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded.  “Cookie.”

“Well, chicken soup first, then a cookie; how does that sound?”

“’Tay,” Darryn sniffed. 

After lunch, she lay down in her bed with him, and they both took a long nap, with did them a world of good, then spent a quiet evening rocking him and singing.

 

The next day, Darryn was feeling much better, but still slept a great deal, so she worked off her nervousness by taking it out on her house, and scrubbed and polished and fluffed whatever needed done.  The rug in the sitting room was taken out and beaten, and she managed to get the clean nappies out on the line, to dry in the sun.

When the baby woke up from his afternoon nap, she changed him, and tickled his feet. “My sweet boy is getting better, yeah?”

“Be’er!” He giggled. 

“Where’s your nose?” she asked, then he grabbed it.  “Good!  Now your eye, and your mouth?” She picked him up and kissed him.  “You are sooooo smart!  You’ll have to show Daeron how smart you are.”

He pointed to himself.

“No, love.  You’re _‘Dare-in.’_ ” She poked his tummy.  “I’m talking about ‘Die-ron.’  He’s Mama’s best friend and went a way for a while, but now he’s coming back in four days!”  She sighed happily.  “Mama can’t wait! And he’s going to be sooooo surprised at what a big boy you are!”

“Big.” Darryn opened his arms wide.  “Big!”

“That’s right.”  She picked him up, and pointed to the sketch of Daeron she kept on the shelf.  “See?  That’s Daeron!  And he wants to see you!”

“ _Ada_ ,” Darryn said.  “ _Ada_.”

“Oh ho!  You’re getting a little bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?  Silly boy!  Now, where’s Blankie?  We need to get ready for dinner, because Hannah’s coming to eat with us!”

She started to carry him out of the nursery, but at the last minute, turned back and grabbed Daeron’s picture. 

“ _Ada_!” Darryn said happily, as she went through her room, and into the sitting room, where she set it on the Mantle. 

“There!  It looks better here, doesn’t it.”

The baby giggled, “Adadadadadaaaaaaaaa!”

“Silly baby,” she kissed his hair.   “What do you think, Little Man?  Is the house all pretty?”

“Pity,” he grinned, and held up his blankie.  “Kiss Banky.”

“Hello, Blankie.” And she made loud kissing noises, making him giggle.  “Do you like Mama’s pretty house?  We have it all nice for when Daeron comes, don’t we?  We’ll dress you up in your nicest outfit, and comb out all your hair...”

“Hair,” he pointed to her braid and tried to pull it.

There was a knock at the door.

“Ooh!  Who could that be?” She carried him to the door, and opened it. “Let’s see who it is…  Hello, Hannah!  Come in!”

“’Anna!” He squealed.

“Hello, lovey.” The woman kissed his cheek, then turned to Rhian and looked at her closely.  “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“Here,” she touched a place on Rhian’s nose, which was surprisingly painful.  “I think you’ve got a pimple, dear.”

“A WHAT?  No!” She quickly handed the baby to the woman and raced into her bedroom and looked in the mirror.  “Oh, my stars!  I’ve got a pimple!  I can’t get a pimple!  Daeron’s coming!”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll mind; he’ll just be so glad to see you.”

“But I want to look _perfect!”_ she wailed. 

“Here, darling,” Hannah put Darryn down.  “Don’t worry; we’ll fix that right up.  To the kitchen we go.”

Rhian solemnly followed Hannah then watched at as the midwife ground some dried ginger with turmeric, then made a paste with some whisky, and dabbed it on her nose.  “Keep applying that every couple of hours, and it should go down before he gets here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure!  Lots of women get spots when their pregnant, so I’ve used this for years.  Works every time.”

“Oh, thank the Gods.  I still don’t know what I’m going to wear, or if I should put my hair up or down…”

Hannah smiled at her for a few minutes, then opened her arms.  “Oh, it’ll be fine.  I am so proud of you.” She whispered, as she hugged Rhian.  “You’ve blossomed so much since Darryn was born, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so beautiful.”

“Oh, aye; me with a big, fat pimple on my nose,” Rhian groaned.

“Well, that too,” the midwife quipped.  “But you’ve also learned how to be strong, and happy and you have a job you love, and you’re an excellent mother, despite everything that happened to you.”  Hannah’s eyes filled.  “I am so proud of you.” She kissed the girl’s brow.  “I feel like my own daughter has come into her own.”

Rhian threw her arms round her and hugged her tight.  “You saved me.  You taught me how to be…everything, and I couldn’t love you more if you were my own mother.” She whispered.  “And now that you and Da are together, I know you’ll be my Mam, really soon!”

“Oh, now…” Hannah cleared her throat, shyly.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  Your father hasn’t asked me.”

“Has he told you he loves you?”

“Well, yes…”

“And you love him, you told me so, right?”  Rhian grinned. 

“Yes, well…” Hannah cleared her throat again.  “Let’s get that dinner on, shall we?  I’m famished.”

 

They prepared a nice summer salad with cold chicken, with fresh fruit.  “I’m sorry for not baking anything; I was so busy cleaning, I forgot.”

“Oh, goodness no! I need to watch my figure anyway.  I’ve put on a few pounds since we moved to Dale, didn’t I?”

“We’re all still getting used to having actual food in our pantries,” Rhian raised her eyebrows. “But you’re right; though I do love to bake, especially when I’m anxious.  It fills the house with spices, and makes everything better.”

“You’re anxious?” Hannah gave her a knowing smile.

“Very! It’s all different now, Hannah.  I want so much… _more,_ now, and I’m excited and frightened and…  I feel like I’m meeting him for the first time.  Does that make sense?”

“It does, lovey.”

“I’ve got it all worked out…  I want to be standing in the garden, so he’ll find me by the irises… I’ll be wearing my best afternoon dress, and my hair will be done up with ribbons, then he’ll…”

“He’ll what?”

She blushed.  “I don’t know, after that.”

Hannah took her hand.  “May I give you a little motherly advice?”

“Of course.  I value your opinion; you know that.”

“Well then, I advise you to relax and not rush things.  You’re not strangers, that’s true enough, but in way you are, because he’s been gone for a year, plus you need to get used to seeing each other in a whole new way, my dear.” Hannah held both of her hands.  “And you’re in love.  It’s exciting and magical and…” 

“I know!  I had no idea it could be this wonderful!  I mean, I love my son more than anything in the world, and I love Da, and you, but…  Stars, I just…  I _love_ him, Hannah.  I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t see him soon!”

“I understand, and I’m happy for you, pet.  But try to relax, and take things as they come.”

“I’ll try.” She rolled her eyes.

 

By the next morning, the angry red spot on the side of her nose had settled into a dark pink, and Rhian breathed a sigh of relief.  By the time the party came to Dale in three or four days, it would be gone.

She still felt skittish, so she and Darryn took a morning trip in to the Market to buy fresh bread, and eggs.   Then she re-dusted the house, re-swept the floors, and punched every pillow on the beds and smoothed the quilts down so they looked like no one had ever slept in them. 

She tried knitting, while Darryn played with his toys, but she couldn’t sit still, so she took the baby out to the garden, and picked a bouquet of flowers to put in several vases around the house.

“That’s better!  Just in time, too; it looks like it might rain.”

“Wain?” Darryn scooted over to the back door.  “I ‘ant wain!”

“No baby; we’re not going to play in the rain today.  You’re still getting over a cold.”

“Wain!” the baby pouted.  “I ’ant wain, Mama!”

She distracted him with his favorite stuffed horsie and sat down to play with his colored blocks that Ben had made for him.

That afternoon, while he was down for his nap, she went to her room and applied some more of Hannah’s mixture on her nose.  “Gah!  It’s a wonder it hasn’t turned orange from the turmeric,” she shrugged at her reflection.  “Still, it seems to work…”

Time was still dragging on, so Rhian decided to make a spice cake, to make the house smell good.  She fired up the oven, and began to get the ingredients together.

Rhian puffed and waved her hands.  “Wooh!  It’s hot in here…”  She opened the windows and the doors to let in some cooler air, then began to mix things up.

She sang a little love song she had heard from Laketown as she prepared the pans with lard and flour, then once the ingredients were in the big bowl, picked it up and held it against her as she beat it with her long wooden spoon, as her eyes wandered to the garden, and looked at Daeron’s purple Irises.

Rhian sighed, happily, then turned, just as she noticed the presence of an intruder in the house, and her heart nearly leaped out of his chest at the sight.

Her eyes flew open wide, and she gasped.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Her screams filled the air as the contents in her arms went flying.  “AAAAAAGH!” She instinctively threw the wooden spoon which hit the intruder square in the eye, then threw the big bowl as hard as she could.  “AAAAAAAAAGH!” She screamed again, praying the neighbors would hear.

The stranger howled in pain, as cake batter splattered all over his face, hair and armor.

_Armor…_

_Elven armor…_

_And he was cursing in Elvish, not Westron..._

“Rhian!  It is me!” The stranger held his hand over one eye and raised other hand with its palm toward her, as a gesture of peace. 

Rhian froze, panting.  “D-Daeron?”

“Yes!   _Nae, naergon!_ Do you not recognize me?”

“Well, no!  You’re covered in batter...” She studied the tall Elf.  “It’s _really_ you?” 

“Who did you think it would be, _Hind Calen?”_ the Elf demanded, as he rubbed his head. _“Puith man, Rhian?”_

She recovered herself and grabbed a few towels and ran over to him.  “Oh, look at your nice armor!  It’s a mess!” She nervously swiped at his chest, but it only seemed to just smear the batter around.

“Here,” he held his hand out, and she handed him a clean towel, and he began to wipe his face off.

Just then they both heard a sleepy cry from the hall.

“Oh, that’s Darryn; let me get him settled back down.” She scooted past him and ran into the nursery, where Darryn was sitting up and frowning.

“Shhh…  It’s all right, sweetie.” She rubbed his back, and tried to settle herself down, as he put his thumb in his mouth and laid back down.  This all seemed surreal.

Once he was back asleep, she rushed back out to the kitchen, to find the tall Elf was standing at the sink with a wet cloth washing the batter off his face and attempting to wipe it out of his hair.

“Oh…  What happened to your armor?” She asked.

“I have placed it by the front door.  I will clean it later.”  He turned toward her, and stared at her.  “Rhian?  What is on your nose?”

She reached up and felt the dried crust of the poultice, and her eyes filled with.  “OH NO!  NO!” She shrieked, and ran over to the sink and frantically washed it off.  “No, no, no no, no, no NO!”

Daeron asked with concern.  “Are you all right?”

“NO, I’m _NOT!”_ she burst in to tears, and buried her face in a clean towel.  “This is a disaster!”

He was instantly at her side, and he held out his hands to touch her, but hesitated.  “I am sorry I frightened you…  I just…”

“But you’re too early!” she wailed. “I was going to wear my best dress, and have my hair done and meet you in the garden by your flowers, and… there was s-supposed to be romantic...” she sniffed, “I was making you a c-cake and wanted to get Darryn all d-dressed up…”

She eyed him furiously.  “Instead you scare the life out of me, and I’ve got a pimple and my hair’s dirty, this dress is old, and there’s batter all over my clean floor!” she leaned against the counter and slid down to the floor, and really started bawling.  “Now everything’s ruined!  It’s all ruined! _”_

Daeron took a step toward her. “I am sorry I ruined your plans.  May I join you?” he asked gently.

“Oh, why not?" She rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “At least the floor’s clean here.”

He slid down beside her, and took the towel and wiped her tears.  “I should have knocked, but I heard you singing and thought it was so lovely.  And I came early because I was so eager to see you.”

“But I tried to _kill_ you,” she moaned.  “I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to come home, and when you finally do, I nearly poke your eyes out!”

“I am fine, although that bowl was rather heavy.” He rubbed his head.  

“I feel terrible, though.  I guess I’m still skittish after the attack last May, and I’m here alone, and…”

Daeron winced, and instantly looked chagrined.  “Oh, Rhian…  It was my fault, for not realizing that.  Of course, you are easily startled,” he looked down at his knees.  “I truly did not mean to frighten you; I _never_ want you to be frightened of me.”

“Oh, I know,” She sighed.  “It’s just that…well…” she swept her arm out at the mess, _“this_ was NOT how I envisioned things happening.  Not at all!  I really wanted everything to be special, you know?”

He picked up her hand and kissed her palm.  “I do know,” he met her eyes, and grinned.  “But just think, _Hind Calen:_  will this not be a wonderful story to tell our grandchildren?”

She stared at him in surprise, then a slow smile crept across her face.  Then she began to giggle.

He smiled down at her, and snickered, and soon, they  both were helpless with laughter.  Rhian’s tears of frustration were soon replaced with tears of happiness and humor and she leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her and they continued their hysterics.  Just as one of them calmed down, the other would start up again, and by the time they were finished, she gasping. 

“Stop!  Stop!  My sides hurt!” she giggled, and crossed her arms across her stomach.  But she still couldn’t hold back another fit of laughter.

Eventually they calmed down, then became very quiet, and she looked up into his greenish-blue eyes. 

Daeron was _here_ , and he was warm and solid and _real,_ and she suddenly realized all her romantic notions were silly, because she loved this Elf, and he loved her, and that was all that really mattered.

And she was _completely_ sure she loved him.  A small part of her had been afraid that, once he returned, she would realize her feelings weren’t what she thought they were, but no; she loved this wonderful, silly, kind Elf with every fiber of her being, with her whole heart.

“I love you, Daeron.” She whispered softly.

She wanted to say it first, because he deserved that. He had held back his feelings, out of kindness and consideration for her, and would have kept them to himself forever, if that's what she needed.  He loved her enough to live without her, as long as she was happy.  Daeron deserved to hear it from her first, so he would never doubt her feelings, never doubt her love.  He deserved to hear it from her every day for the rest of their lives together. 

And when she said the words, the look on his face was worth everything they had been through to find their way to this moment.  Rhian reached up and stroked his cheek, still a bit sticky from the cake batter.  He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, and sighed.  Rhian could see in his face that his dreams, his hopes finally, finally come true.  He could not speak just then, though the tear escaped from the corner of one of his eyes, said everything. 

“I love you.” Rhian gently wiped it away.  “I love you so much.”

The Elf opened his eyes again, and stared at her in wonder.  “ _Gi melin, Rhian.  Ci velethron e-guil nîn…”_   He swallowed, and she could feel his hands tremble.  “May I kiss you, _Hind Calen?”_

Of course, he would ask her permission.  This wonderful, kind being had seen her at her most vulnerable; the first time they met, she was covered in bruises from her late husband, Garth, and frightened of her own shadow.  He had been so patient, and not once did he ask her for than she could give.  She looked deeply into his eyes and saw the depth of feeling he had held for her, and she her heart nearly burst with happiness that she honestly could return his love.

“No.” She shook her head.

“No?” His head jerked back in surprise.

“No,” she gave him a small smile, “you may not kiss me.  Because _I_ want to kiss _you,”_

His eyes widened, and he gasped softly, as she turned her body around to face him, and slowly moved toward him.  Their lips hesitated, just before touching, and suddenly her eyes filled with tears.

This was the beginning.  The true beginning of their life together, and neither one of them would ever be the same.

Softly, her lips touched his, and she kissed him slowly.  Then kissed him softly, again.  And again.  His hands reached up and stroked her cheeks, then her hair.

She pulled back, and he lowered his brow to hers and grinned.  “Now that was better than I’d imagined.” His eyes were still closed.

“Really,” she chuckled.  “I’ll bet we can do even better.”  Then her lips were on his again, and the gentle sweetness was replaced with eagerness and passion.  Daeron whimpered in surprise and pleasure, and she could feel his arms reach out to hold her, as she deepened the kiss.  When her tongue sought entrance to his mouth, he gladly granted it and let out a low moan as they plundered each other with the hardest, longest, _best_ kiss of her entire life _._

 _So, this is what it can be like,_ she thought. After that, she couldn’t think at all, because she was lost in the sensation of his hands, his arms, his lips and their tongues dancing together, and she was swept into a whirlpool of joy and desire.  Oh, it was glorious!

Finally, they broke apart, both panting and looked at each other with wonder.

“I did not know kisses could be like this,” he murmured.

“Neither did I,” she smiled up at him, and buried her face in his neck, and they held each other for several minutes, reveling in their closeness, the feel of his strong arms around her, and never in her entire life did she feel so safe, and so loved.

Just then, the loud clap of thunder could be heard.

 _“Ai gorgor!”_ Daeron groaned. “I left Turamarth’s horse outside!”  He sighed, reluctantly let go of her, and gracefully got to his feet, then held out his hand to pull her up into a standing position.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, and smiled up at him.  “Go, then.  Once Tur’s horse is taken care of, then get yourself cleaned up.  I’ll make us all some dinner, and Darryn will be up by the time you get back.

His eyes lit up at the mention of the baby’s name. “That would be wonderful!  I want to see him…” he leaned down to kiss her again.  “And I have missed you, _Hind Calen_.  You make me so happy.”

After another long, lingering kiss, she pushed him away, laughing.  “Go, before poor _Sandastan_ gets soaked.  Then get right back here, yeah?”

She walked him to the door, as he grabbed his armor from the entrance, and kissed her again, but this time it was chaste. 

“I shall be back, soon, _Meleth nîn_.” He cupped her cheek, then turned walked down the porch steps toward Turamarth’s horse, just as it began to rain.

Rhian closed the door and leaned against it, with a happy sigh.  Things had not worked out the way she planned _at all…_

But Daeron was right; this was _much_ better.

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Mellyn nîn_ – My friends

 _Gwinnig_ – Beloved maid

 _Niftoroghû_ – Troll-faced dog

 _Hind Calen_ – “Green Eyes,” Daeron’s pet name for Rhian

 _Nae, naergon! –_   Alas, Lament!

 _Puith man_ _, Rhian?_ – What the fuck, Rhian?

 

 _Gi melin, Rhian._ – I love you, Rhian.

 _Ci velethron e-guil nîn…_ \- You are the love of my life…

 _Ai, gorgor!_ Oh no!  Horrors!

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! At last these two crazy kids got together. I am surprised, and very humbled at the number of fans my two OC's have, and I wanted to thank you.
> 
> Only a few more chapters to go, kids!


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daeron has finally seen Rhian, and after an inauspicious beginning, plans are made for later. He runs into another close friend, who offers the young couple some good advice and guidance.
> 
> And Daeron gets to see little Darryn again!
> 
> The next day he heads to the Healing Hall, where he meets up with Ermon and Elénaril, and gives the expectant mother some surprising news!

Hey  

“Maybe we needed to break a little, so we could put ourselves back together more beautifully than before.”   
―  **Leah Raeder,[Cam Girl](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/42991007)**

 

 

**City of Dale, 29 th August 2943 T.A.**

After kissing Rhian one last time, he tore himself away to Tur’s horse, who was eager to get out of the rain. 

_She loves me!_

Impulsively, the Elf threw his arms around _Sandastan’s_ neck and buried his face in the horse’s fur as he laughed.  As the rain began to fall in earnest, he finally lifted his face.  “ _Ánillo avatyare,_ _málo_ ,” he stroked the Dun-colored horse’s neck.  “Let us get you dried off and fed.”  He quickly mounted the horse and took him to the stables and settled him in, then quickly made his way to his apartment, with the same thought running through his head over, and over again:

_She loves me…_

He knew he must look ridiculous with such a wide grin on his face, not to mention his occasional bursts of joyful laughter, but did he honestly care? 

_She loves me…_

It was all worth the wait, long and agonizing as it had been.  Rhian had come to this freely, on her own, and when she looked at him with her beautiful green eyes, and said those words, Daeron felt a joy he’d never known could exist.  The loneliness that had haunted him for all these months, for so many years since he lost Sellwen, was…

…gone.  It was just gone.

Daeron ducked under the awning of the sidewalk, and stopped, to let that sink in.  His breath caught, and his hand unconsciously went to his chest.  He had lived with this pain for so long, it became a part of him.  Then Rhian kissed it away, leaving warmth and fullness in its place.

 “Daeron?”

He turned toward the voice that was calling his name, to see Hannah hurry across the street toward him.

“Oh, my stars!  It’s you!”  She opened her arms and they tearfully embraced each other.  “Oh, my boy, my boy!  I thought you weren’t coming for another few days!  It’s so good to see you, love!  Just let me look at you!” She pulled back and gave him the once-over.  “You’re a mess!” She laughed.  “And you smell like...  cinnamon?”

“Yes, well,”  he self-consciously smooth back his hair, which was stiff from the dried cake batter.  “I accidently startled Rhian when I went to see her, and she… defended herself.”

“Oh, my lands…” Hannah covered her mouth and began to laugh. “Is she all right?”

“She is more than all right.” He smiled down at her. “ _Everything_ is wonderful!” He laughed and picked the woman up and swirled her around.  “She loves me, Hannah!  She loves me!”

“Oh, put me down, silly boy!” The midwife laughed, then once her feet were planted.  “Of course, she loves you; she’d be a fool not to!” she hugged him again.  “I’m happy for you, pet.  Where are you headed now?”

“I must go clean up, then Rhian wants me to come back for supper.  I have not seen little Darryn yet.” 

“Well, he’s not so little anymore, love.  You’ll see.”  She tilted her head.  “Tell me, did you speak to Ben, yet?”

“No; only spoke briefly to my family, then Turamarth practically threw me on his horse, and here I am!”

“I’m glad of it, really I am,” she gave him a careful smile,  “but I think I should tell you that Ben is an old-fashioned sort of Da, and he’s going to want to be asked formal permission to court her.  Rhian is his pride and joy, and he wants to make sure her reputation is not sullied in anyway.”

“ _Ai!”_ Daeron blew out his breath.  “I forgot about that in my excitement to get here…  Of course I want to show all respect; I am sorry.”

She considered.  “Tell you what; I’ll act as chaperone, until Ben gets back. I’ve got nothing really going on this evening, so I’ll head on over there and when you’re finished cleaning up, you come, all right?”

He leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks.  “Thank you!” He grinned.  “I am told you and Lord Ben are courting as well?  Do _you_ need chaperoning?”

“Don’t be impertinent,” Hannah giggled, and smacked his arm.  “Yes, we are, and no we don’t.  In any case, it’ll mean a lot to Ben if you seek him out, and follow traditions.”

“Does he know about us?”

“Rhian told him weeks ago, and he’s happy with it.  Still, I think he’ll worry, when he hears you came early.”

“But I would _never_ take advantage!  Elves do not do that!”

“I know that, and _you_ know that, and if it was anybody else but his daughter, Ben would know that too.” She smiled. “But that girl is his jewel, and Da’s can be...  overprotective.  Remember, he nearly lost her last May.”

Daeron kissed her hand.  “He nearly lost you, too.  I am happy you are safe and well, _Mellon_ _nîn_.”

She lost her smile for a moment, then nodded resolutely.  “Thanks, love.  Just be sensitive to my Ben, yeah?  He’ll need a little time to get used to things changing.” She looked at him carefully.  “You do plan on asking her to marry you soon?”

“Yes.  My intentions are completely honorable, Hannah.”

“Well, then; I’ll see you at Rhian’s then.” She kissed him again, pulled her shawl over her head, and rushed into the rain.

 

As Daeron stepped into the bath, and began to wash the cake batter out of his hair and the grime from the day’s ride, he considered Hannah’s words.  She was right to insist upon a chaperone, and though he hated to admit it, he was grateful, too.

When Rhian had kissed him, _really_ kissed him, when he was holding her so close and their mouths opened, he was not prepared for the surge of desire that welled up in him.  Elven customs or no, he had instantly become aroused, his cock was hard and aching, his ears thundered from the excitement, he was surprised at how difficult it was to control himself!  .

He lay back in the tub and smiled, thinking of it. 

Never, in all his years, had he kissed anyone like that.  Rhian had helped him discover something entirely new, and it took all his strength of will not to gather her in his arms and carry her off to her bed and join with her right there and then.  Never, in all his years, had he lacked control over his own body, and never, did he want something as badly as he wanted her.  It was terrifying.  And exciting, and agonizing and completely wonderful!

 Just thinking about it made him grow hard and aching again, and he could do little else but grab the lavender oil, take himself in hand, and think of her, as he worked himself through his release.

As soon as he came back to himself, he laughed wryly.  Daeron would be doing a lot of that before their wedding night. 

Because, as much as he wanted her, he wanted to honor her, and her family.

 

***************

 

“Knock, knock!” Hannah called when she opened Rhian’s front door.

“Hi!  Come in!” Rhian called from the kitchen.

Hannah followed the voice to see Rhian on here hands and knees, scrubbing dried cake batter from the floor.

“You’re glowing, my dear,” she said with a knowing smile.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so radiant,”

“I feel radiant!”  Rhian sat back on her knees and grinned up at her.  “Daeron was here!” 

“Yes, I saw him.  He told me what happened,” she tried to hide her amusement.  “I sent him along to get himself a bath, and he’ll be here directly.  Now; what have you got together for supper?”

“I bought a roasted chicken this morning at the Market, so we’ll have that, some green beans and a salad.”  Rhian looked up at her.  “Are you staying?”

“Yes, I am.” She raised her eyebrows.  “Your Da would want me do, don’t you think?”

“You’re right.  Da would have a fit, otherwise.  I had no idea he was coming, so that’s not my fault!”

“Oh, of course you didn’t; the boy was so anxious to see you, he didn’t think of it either.” She smiled down at her.  “So?  How was it?”

The girl looked thoughtful.  “I kissed him, Hannah.  I wanted to.  He’s loved me for so long, I wanted to prove to him that I really mean it, you know?”

“And?”  Hannah helped the girl stand.  “Was it everything you dreamed of?”

“Oh, my stars!” Rhian mooned.  “I had no idea it could feel like that!  I can’t even describe how wonderful it was!”  She sighed with sheer happiness.  “I…  after everything that’s happened to me…  I _want_ him, Hannah.  I didn’t think I could ever feel this way, but I do!”

“I’m so happy for you, love!” The midwife threw her arms around the girl.  “You deserve every joy and happiness, Rhian. 

“Thanks to you, I know I deserve to be happy.”  Rhian smiled and nodded her head. “I deserve him, only because you showed me I could.”

Hannah just held her again, and whispered.  “I love you like a daughter; you know that, don’t you?”

“And I love you like a mother.”

“Good,” she held her at arm’s length, “because your father’s not here at the moment, and it’s only proper that a courting couple have a chaperone, so I’ve got the job.”  She raised her eyebrows. 

“You’re right,” the girl agreed, albeit reluctantly.  “We’ve got things to talk about, but tonight is just about me and him and Darryn.”

“Well, then, you let me finish up dinner, while you change and get Darryn ready, love.”

Rhian didn’t need to be asked twice, and was off like a shot.  Hannah took care of the bucket and dirty water, then put the beans on the stove to cook and washed and dressed the salad with oil and vinegar.  Then she carved the rather large chicken, and set the carcass in a bowl with a towel, to be boiled later for soup.

By the time she had the table set, there was a knock on the front door.

“Could you get that, Hannah?” Rhian called from the back.  “I’m just getting Darryn’s leggings on.  Come on, you; cooperate, please!”  Hannah chuckled at the irritated sounds from the toddler who hated to get dressed.

“Sure thing, love!”  Hannah wiped off her hands and rushed to the door, to find the Guardian standing there looking nervous, excited, and completely free of cake batter.

“Well, you don’t smell spicy, but you’ll do,” She grinned.  “Come on in.”

His hair was still wet from his bath, and he was wearing a simple blue tunic and black moleskin leggings and boots.  He wiped the mud off his boots, then kissed Hannah’s cheek.  “Where is Rhian?”

“She had to clean herself up, and was just getting the baby ready for you.”

“He’s awake?”  Daeron’s breath caught, and he smoothed down the front of his tunic nervously.  “What if he does not like me?  I do not want to scare him…”

She shushed him and put her hand on his arm.  “Just relax, and let him come to you, love.  It’ll be all right; I promise.” She gave him a reassuring smile.

She led the Elf into the house, just as Rhian came from the back hall, carrying her son, who was wearing a green shirt and tiny brown leggings.  His feet were bare, and his hair was a tumble of dark waves, and he held onto his mother’s hip with one hand, and chewed his fingers with another.

Hannah looked at Daeron whose eyes filled with tears and he covered his mouth.  “Oh, he is so beautiful…” he whispered softly.  “Look at him…”  He struggled to get his voice under control, as he got down on one knee.

Rhian smiled, and set the baby on the rug, so the two of them could size each other up. 

“Hello, little one.” Daeron said, softly.  “Hello…  I am Daeron.”

Darryn stood there for a minute and held his blankie.  Then he took a step towards him, then looked up at his mother.

“That’s right, love.  This is Daeron.  He helped your Mam when you were born.  Can you say ‘Hello?’”

Darryn smiled and held out the hand that wasn’t gripping Blankie, and wiggled his fingers into a fist several times.  Then smiled, when Daeron repeated the gesture.  He took another step toward the Elf, and chewed on his finger.  “Dahro?”

“That is right.  I am Daeron, and you are Darryn,” he pointed to the little boy.  Darryn looked down at his tummy, where he thought the Guardian was pointing, then lifted his shirt to show the Elf his belly button.

“That is a very nice belly button,” Daeron smiled, and the baby laughed, as he looked between his mother and the Elf.

Hannah crossed her arms and looked between Rhian, whose face was shining, and Daeron’s who was completely focused on the little boy.  She saw him swallow a few times, his eyes fill.

“You have grown…”  He murmured, with eyes full of wonder.  “And you are walking, and talking…”

Hannah decided it was time to keep things from becoming too emotional.  She went over and picked the baby up.  “Tell you what, Little Man; why don’t we get something to eat, then maybe Daeron can play with you, yeah?”

During dinner, the Elf sat beside him, with Rhian on the other side.  Darryn was fascinated by this tall, auburn-haired stranger but decided he liked him.  Daeron helped cut up his chicken and they fed each other the green beans, while they made funny faces at each other. 

When they were finished, Rhian stood and started to gather the dishes.

“No, you don’t, love.  I’ll take care of these and you tend to your men.  I’ll put the kettle on, and be out in two shakes of lamb’s tail.”

Rhian gave her a quick kiss.  “Thanks, Hannah!” she whispered, went into the Sitting room.

When Hannah got the tray together and joined them, Daeron was sitting on the floor playing with the baby.  They were making a tall tower of colorful wooden blocks, then Darryn could knock them down.

“Uh oh!” he giggled, when they scattered on the rug.

“Uh oh!” the Elf repeated, and clapped his hands.  “Do you know what color this is?” He held up a block. “It is red; can you say that?”

“Wed,” he pointed.

“Very good!  Now, what color is this?”

“Boo!”

“That is also right; it is blue.  You are very smart boy.”

Hannah sat down beside Rhian and handed her a cup.  “Isn’t that a beautiful sight,” she murmured softly.

“It is,” Rhian leaned against her and whispered.  “I’m loving it.”  She quickly wiped her eye.  “I don’t want to miss a second of it.”

Just then the Elf looked up and met Rhian’s eyes, and Hannah saw the same depth of feeling in them, as she held for Ben, and she knew they would be all right. 

“What’s the matter, Hannah?”

“Oh, I just…” she laughed a little, as she held her handkerchief over her nose.  “I just remember back when we all first met.  Look how far we’ve all come!”

Rhian put her arm around the midwife’s shoulders.  “Aye.  It all feels like another life, but from the first, you were both so kind to me.” She looked over and Daeron, who was still going over colors with the baby.  “Did you know he used to visit my tent right after the Battle?”

“You were staying with Enid and Gladys, weren’t you?”

“Aye, and he would come, but he knew I was nervous, so he didn’t even try to talk to me.  He chatted up the ladies, who ate it up, and was just… there, you know?”

“You must realize I was there to visit them, not you,” Daeron deadpanned, as he brushed off his leggings and sat on the chair to face them.  “I thought they were rather sweet.”

“Sweet on you, you mean!  You were quite the charmer.”  Rhian laughed, as Darryn crawled up in to her lap.  “Anyway,” she turned to Hannah again, “he never tried to push at me, he just was there, and nice and kind…”

The Elf lost his smile, “I had no idea you had been suffering so much physically.  You had broken ribs, and that one that had not healed correctly.”

“My lands, that’s right!” Hannah shook her head.  “When I heard Lord Thranduil had to re-break it and set it right, I nearly fainted!  You could have died when you were giving birth!”

“I would not have let you die, _Hind Calen_.” Daeron assured her.  “But I did feel terrible, when I heard.”

“I barely remember having Darryn…” Rhian mused.  “I was in the wagon with you two and Sigrid, and…  the pain was terrible… then I woke up in a room in the Healing Hall and it was over.”

“Oh aye,” Hannah reminded her.  “Daeron put you to sleep, then helped you the rest of the way, remember?” 1

“Well, no; I was asleep?” Rhian quipped with a smirk.  “But I think I’m glad I missed that.”

“I am glad, as well.”  Daeron laughed, as smiled at the baby, who was leaning his head against his mother and sucking his thumb.

“You know, in a way, we _both_ gave birth to him.” Rhian mused.  

“I’ve got no argument with that,” Hannah smiled. “He was doing all the work, and wore himself to rags, making sure Darryn would be all right.  He was choking, you know.”

Rhian looked at Hannah in alarm.  “He was?”

“Oh, yes, love.  Remember?”

“No…  I know we talked right after he was born, but I was so out of it; it was hard to concentrate on anything.” She looked at her Elf.  “I do remember Lord Thranduil helping you into my room, you looked just as worn out as I felt.”

“I remember that, too,” he said. “I was exhausted.”

“I believe it!” Hannah shook her head.  “The minute Darryn was finally born, he turned white as a ghost, and passed out!  When Lord Thranduil rushed into the room, I’d never seen him so worried!”

“I didn’t know you were that bad off,” Rhian frowned, at the Elf, “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be, _Hind Calen_.” His eyes softened, as he smiled at the baby. “It was worth it.” Then he looked up and met Rhian’s gaze, and smiled.  “It was all worth it.”

Hannah got up, “I think you and I need to switch places, don’t you?” she laughed.  “Go on, pet; go sit with your sweetheart.”

Rhian had the grace to blush, as Daeron sat beside her, and put his arm around her shoulders.  She leaned her head against him and looked up, and he gave her a quick kiss.  “This is nice,” she whispered up to him.

“It is very nice,” he smiled down at her.  “Thank you, Hannah.”

“Dahro!”  Darryn reached up and grabbed the Elf’s nose.

“And thank you, too!” Daeron laughed, and made a goofy face at their boy, then started to play pat-a-cake with him.

 

The evening was spent with easy laughter and loving looks, and when Rhian asked Daeron if he wanted to help put the baby to bed, the Elf jumped at the chance.  He read Darryn two stories, insisted he needed a lullaby, then tucked him in with a goodnight kiss.

“I hate to say it, but I must go; it is getting late.” Daeron sighed.

“I know,” Rhian put her arms around his waist and smiled up at him.  “I still can’t believe you’re really here!”

“I cannot either,” he kissed her brow.  “If this is a dream, I do not want to wake up.”

“They’re planning a huge feast for when the Guardians come back.”

“I will be delighted to attend,” he smiled, “but this welcome is better.”

”Even when I tried to kill you?”

”It would take much more than that to kill me, _Hind Calen.”_

“Go on then,” Hannah gave them both a mischievous smile.  “Walk your young man to the door, and say goodnight.  I’ll stay here in the sitting room…” she winked, “just in case the baby calls out.   But don’t be long.”

Hannah enjoyed another cup of tea, and tried not to listen to the murmurs of love and the sounds of kissing, and when Rhian came back and sat down, her face was flushed, and her eyes were dancing.

“You were right, you know,” she smiled up at the midwife.

“I’m always right,” she joked.  “Which pearl of wisdom are you talking about this time?”

“To relax.  Things didn’t go how I thought they would, but…  it feels so right; like we’ve been together for years.  I’m still excited, but it still feels so natural, you know?”

“Oh, believe me,” she gathered the girl to her.  “I know.”

“I’m glad you were here, tonight.”

“Really?  I was afraid you both might resent my intrusion.”

“Not at all!  You’re family; you belong with us, and…” the girl looked down and blushed.  “I’ve never really felt so...”

“You ‘want’ him?”

Rhian nodded shyly.  “When he kisses me, my knees go weak, and all I want is…  I mean, I’m not a virgin, but in a way, I feel like I am, because I think it will be different with Daeron.  Does that make sense?”

“It makes perfect sense, love.  And I know you’d regret plunging into something before you’re both ready.” She smirked at the girl.  “Daeron wants you just as badly, you know.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, my girl; he loves you, but he’s… hungry for you.  And,” she raised her eyebrows, “I have it on good authority that Elves…  well, let’s just say it really _will_ be different with him.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll have to speak to Elénaril to learn about the Elven birds and bees.  In the meantime, what I said still stands, pet.  Get to know each other again.  Get used to how different things are with him, and relax; don’t rush into anything just because you have a hard time keeping your hands off of each other.  When you do come together, you want it to be right, and beautiful, not an impulsive act.”

“You’re right,” Rhian sighed. 

 

 

***************

**City of Dale, 29 th of August 2943 T.A.**

 

Daeron felt the light shine on his face, and blinked awake.  For a second or two, he was puzzled; the window in his room at Haldir’s _talon_ was on his right, not his left…

He was home. 

He sat up, as the memories of last evening flooded through him, and he threw back the covers and was on his feet in an instant.  After stretching, he looked around the room, and saw it was neat and dusted, and ready for his things again. 

The tunic and leggings he borrowed from Tur were in a heap on the floor, so he picked them up an put them in the basket in the bathing room, then fished out some more clean clothes from his cousin’s closet.   Once he was dressed, he walked through the quiet apartment, taking in the familiar sights.  There was a new end-table by the sofa, and the chairs were reversed, but otherwise, it was just as he remembered it.

The kitchen looked much the same so he started the fire, made himself some tea, then settled on the sofa to reflect on the events of the last sixteen hours.  He didn’t ponder for long, because his stomach was growling, and there was little food in the house.  He rinsed out his cup and went out to the Market, and into the baker’s shop.

“Daeron!” the Baker and his wife rushed up to greet him.  “When did you get back?”

“Last evening.  The others will be along in a few days, but I am a bit early.  I have missed it here!” he grinned.  “I have also missed your lemon scones.  Would you happen to have any?” he asked hopefully.

The Baker’s wife ran into the back and returned with a small bundle wrapped in paper.  “Here you go, lad.  Three of them, on the house; welcome home!”

He thanked the Baker, kissed his wife’s hand and ate the scones as he walked around the Market, with a smile on his face.

Then he went to visit his friends in the Healing House.

 

***************

 

Ermon woke with a yawn and a stretch, and rolled over to look at his sleeping wife.  Poor Elénaril was getting bigger by the day.  Normally Elves didn’t even really show until the last two months, and even then, not all that much.  If he were honest with himself, he wasn't entirely sure; what few births there had been in the Woodland Realm were usually looked after by Daeron, or another Healer who specialized in such work.  Still, she was healthy, and the babies were very active, though mostly at night, despite their efforts.

He propped himself up on his elbow, and smiled, as he looked at her face, which had filled out without looking puffy, and though she disagreed, she really did have a beautiful glow.  He reached out and stroked her cheek.  “ _Niphredil nîn…”_ he whispered, as he touched her full breasts, then ran his hand over her belly.

“ _Aur galu, hîn_ ,” Ermon whispered, and leaned down to kiss the swell of Elénaril’s stomach.  Then he threw back the covers and grabbed his robe, to go make some breakfast for his wife.

She was stirring when he came back with a tray with tea and some eggs and toast.

“You let me sleep in,” she chided, as she tried to sit up.  Ermon quickly set the tray on the end table and propped some pillows behind her.  “Thank you, _Meleth_.  It becomes more and more difficult. I will miss them, after they are born, but it will be wonderful to move around again.  I have no idea what my feet look like anymore.”

“Your feet are just as beautiful as they always were.” He settled next to her with the tray in his lap.  “I thought we could enjoy a quiet breakfast, while we still can.”  He speared a forkful of egg,  “Open up, _Nana_!”

She laughed and let him feed her, as she leaned against his shoulder.  “I am very happy, Ermon.”

“As am I.” He smiled down at her, and lifted his arm to put around her.  “I do not know what you saw in an ancient Elf like me, but I thank the Valar you did.” He grinned.  “I have a surprise for you.”

“Which is?”

“I have decided to take some time off when the babies are born, so we can enjoy them together.”

“You can do that?” She looked thrilled.  “However did you manage it?”

“I spoke to Lord Thranduil, and told him I deserve a respite, after so many years of serving our people, and he agreed.  I will be home with you for two months after the children are born.  Are you as glad as I am?"

“Yes!” She was delighted, then suddenly burst into tears.  “I am sorry,” she laughed sheepishly. "I have such mood swings..."

“Nonsense; there is nothing to be sorry about,” he kissed her hair.  “How many times have you told expectant mothers that this is normal? Now, finish your tea, and we will get you up and dressed.”

He got up and offered his arms, supported her to a standing position, then helped her get her clothes, stockings and shoes on.   Then they walked together to the Healing Hall for their shifts.

“Meriel will arrive with the Kings and their guests in three days, so that will give you plenty of time to introduce her to your patients before you stop working next week.”

“And Dior does not mind?”  She asked.  “I am happy to see her, of course, but they only married last year…”

“It is all taken care of.  Dior will also come, and work at the Castle.  Daeron will not be returning to his Guard duties right away; he will be taking over my patients, while I discover the wonders of fatherhood.” He patted her hand.  “You and I will have plenty to keep us occupied.”

They turned the corner, to the street where the Healing House was located, and saw, up ahead, a familiar-looking Elf approach the front steps, wiping crumbs off his hands. 

“Is that…” She wondered aloud, then gasped. “It is!  Daeron!” She called out with excitement and waved. “Daeron!”

The auburn-haired Elf turned and widened his eyes, as a grin spread across his face, and he ran over.

 _“Suilad, Daeron!  Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn!”_   Elénaril opened her arms and embraced their friend, as Ermon clapped him on the shoulders with delight.

 _“Ae!  Mae g'ovannen, Mellyn nîn!”_ The Guardian stepped back and took Elénaril’s hands.  “I can barely get my arms around you!  Let me look at you…” then he laughed.  “ _Ai!_ You are enormous!”

“Yes, I am,” Elénaril put her hands on her low back.  “And I am eager for this to be over with, and to meet our children.”

The Guardian’s brows furrowed.  “Are you all right?”

“I am fine; I am in no pain, but it is awkward to walk – waddle – with this,” she smiled.  “I have never felt so clumsy.”

“And for an Elf, that is saying something,” Daeron winced.  “But normal for one who is carrying twins, though you are bigger than I’ve ever seen...” He regarded her bulging middle thoughtfully. “I was just heading inside to say hello, but I can examine you, if you like.”

“Would you?  Ermon and I cannot ‘see’ them like you can, and I am anxious to know more.”

“I would be happy to.” The Guard grinned.   

They each took an arm and escorted her up the steps, and after a cursory wave to his friends with a promise to visit later, Daeron helped Ermon lift his wife onto an examination table, with a pillow under her head, and one under her knees.

The Guardian checked her, then lifted the sheet to expose her large belly, then began to feel around for the babies’ positions. He did this for several minutes, and the look of concentration of his face made Ermon nervous.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked Daeron.

“Well, not exactly…” he felt some more, then looked at him with a puzzled look.  “You examined her yourself?”

“Yes.  We are having a boy and a girl, but that is all I can tell.  I hear heartbeats, which seem good.”

“So, do I; but it is difficult, with two of them.” Elénaril confirmed.  “Daeron, I don’t like the look on your face—”

“Shh!” Daeron said suddenly.  Then he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths to prepare himself then placed his hands on her belly, again.  After a few moments, her belly jumped.

“Ooh!” Elénaril gasped. The babies, or one of them at least, responded to him with some hard kicks.

“Who else has examined you?” Daeron looked serious.

“Well, no one.  Why would we?” Ermon answered.  “Daeron, what is it?”

The Guardian stepped back and pulled the sheet up to her waist. “Ermon, I think you should sit down.”

“I am fine,  I assure you,” he squeezed his wife’s hand and remained standing. “I am a fully-trained professional, with five thousand more years’ experience than you, so just tell us, and end this suspense!”

“You may be more experienced, _Mellon_ _nîn_ , but you do not have my gift.” The Elf raised his eyebrows.  “I would like to point out that you are bond-mates, and sometimes that can hinder these things.”

“I do not understand,” Ermon felt a gnawing apprehension. “Why do you say this?”

Daeron raised his brows.  “It seems that your children have been a bit mischievous.”

“How so?”

“Well, apparently one of them was hiding, when you examined them.”

“What in the world do you mean?”

The Guardian smirked.   _“Mellyn nîn_ , you are not having twins; you are having triplets.” 

“What?”  Elénaril yelped.

“What?” Ermon’s breath caught.

“You are about to be the proud parents of two daughters and a son.” Daeron studied him.  “Triplets are rare among humans, and I have never heard of this among Elves, have you?”

The couple shook their heads.  

“Never,” Ermon whispered, weakly.

“It was always possible, of course, but since it never happened, I understand why it never occurred to you.”

“Never,” Ermon said weakly, and let go of his wife’s hand and staggered over to the wall.  “Three babies…” He turned as his knees gave out, then he sat cross-legged in a daze.

“Three babies.” Daeron repeated.  “It appears they have enjoyed playing a cat-and-mouse game with you.  Even Elves can be surprised by a ‘surprise’ at the birth.” Daeron looked down at Elénaril who had suddenly become pale.  “You must remain calm, _Mellon._ Take some slow, deep breaths...”

She burst into tears. “I have not been able to take a deep breath in a month!” she sobbed. “I am enormous, and I still have to carry all three of them for four more weeks, and have someone else dress me and… I just…” she was completely overcome.  “I can barely move now; how can I do this?”  she cried in earnest.

“I promise, it will be fine,” Daeron patted her hand then turned to her husband.

“Are you all right, Ermon?”

“I am fine…  I am just going to sit here… for just a moment…”  Ermon tried to stop his hands from shaking and irritated to admit he was losing his equanimity.  Was he not an ancient Elf, one of only a few who actually lived in Doriath?  Did he not train under the great Lord Elrond himself?  What was wrong with him?

Daeron handed him a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully. Then he supported her back to help her get down, then he took her to the nearest chair, and handed her one, as well.

“Are the babies all right?” she asked, still sniffling.

“They are fine.  And you will not be carrying them for four more weeks; I would estimate their birth this week; next week, at the latest, so we will be watching you very carefully.”

“Oh, praise Varda!” she sighed with relief.

Daeron laughed. “It was fortunate I came when I did, yes?  As of now, you are finished working.  I want you to go straight back home, and you will stay in bed, with your feet up.  The babies will be early, yes, but we still want them to wait as long as possible.”

“But the babies are healthy?”

“They are, but their placenta is larger, and a bit too low for my liking, so you cannot put pressure on it.  In fact, I will order a carriage to take you home.   I want you on your left side as much as possible; have Ermon help you use pillows to make you more comfortable.  Ermon I think your leave should begin now, too.  After we get her settled, I will come back and see to your patients.”

“I would appreciate that.”

“Triplets…”  The Elleth said softly.  “ _Three_ babies…”

“Yes, three babies; two are heads-up and one is head-down, and your cervix has already begun to dilate.” Daeron became serious.  “I want someone with you at all times, and I should warn you that I will likely want to deliver them through surgery, if I deem it safer for the babies.”

“But…” Ermon stuttered, then babbled nervously.  “Our home is not prepared; we were going to do that next week! There are no clouts, or clothing or blankets...we have not gotten the…” he struggled for the words.

“Cradles?”

“Yes!” he snapped.  “And we only ordered two, Daeron!  We are not ready!  This was carefully planned, and now…  I do not think we can do this…” he was feeling panicked.  “This is not what we were expecting!”

“Welcome to parenthood.” Daeron shrugged. “Relax; you do not have to worry about the furniture for a while, yet.” His friend soothed him.  “You will only need one crib for a couple of months; the babies will do better if you can keep them together.  A couple of rocking chairs would also be handy.”

Elénaril seemed to calm down.  “We can do that.”

Daeron couldn’t keep the mischievous grin off his face.  “Your children love you very much, and are eager to meet you.  I think they like it when you sing to them.”

“They do?”  Elénaril smiled.

“Not you, I am afraid.” he smiled at her.  “For some reason, they prefer their father to sing.”

“That is because my wife has a terrible singing voice.”

“I do not!” Elénaril scowled.  “I manage the songs at the ceremonies, just fine!”

“’Manage’ is the correct word, _Mellon_ ,” the Guardian smirked.  “I have heard you sing.  You are awful!”  He laughed, as he dodged the pillow that Elénaril threw at him, then stepped out to order the carriage.

Ermon finally recovered, and went to his wife.  “I cannot believe I did not know this.” He shook his head.  “I should have known!”

“What about me?  I am their mother and even I did not…”  she began to cry again.  “I am going to be a terrible mother, Ermon!” she buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “I did not even know my own babies!  How can I do this?  What if I—“

“Shhh... _Niphredil nîn,”_ he leaned down and kissed her white-blonde hair.  “Perhaps we cannot be objective when we are dealing with ourselves.” He lifted her chin and smiled.  “One of the things that I love about you is your strength and determination.  You will – _we_ will – be the best parents we can be, to all these children, yes?”

“You are right,” she shook her head and sighed.  “What is the matter with me?” 

“There is nothing wrong with you that has not happened to every new mother on Middle Earth.” He leaned down and placed several soft kisses on her lips.  “And the good news is, you will see your feet again, sooner than you thought.” He gave her an encouraging smile, and began to recover from the shock himself.

“But this is not what I am used to; I am usually the calm one, Ermon!” She wailed.  “And look at me; I am a blubbering mess!  My hair needs washing, I need a bath, but I cannot get into or out of the tub…  how am I going to look after three babies!”

“I will hire someone to help you.” Ermon promised.  “And I will bathe you myself.  In fact, I think I would enjoy it.”

That calmed her down a bit, and she gave him a small smile. “I do love it when you wash my hair.” She held up her hands for him to lift her up. “Now, take me home; we have to make some more plans.”

Daeron rode with them in the carriage, then helped get her settled in bed with her feet propped up.  Ermon brought her several books to read, and a pitcher of fresh water.

“Drink plenty of liquids,” the Guardian ordered, “and do not try to get up yourself; you could strain a muscle; now that we know there are three babies, we need to keep them as long as possible, yes?”  The Guardian kissed her cheek.  “I will check in later.”

Ermon winced.  “Could you send an Assistant over to stay with her today?” he looked at his wife apologetically.  “If my leave is going to start early, I must make arrangements and get things settled.  I am sorry, _Meleth nîn_ , but there are too many loose ends to clear up.” 

“No, I understand.  See if Hannah can come, if she’s available, would you?”

“Of course.”  Daeron waved.  “I will see you soon.”

 

***************

 

Daeron had to laugh, as he went to find Hannah.  It was wonderful how seamlessly he fell into his old life!  And triplets!  What a blessing, from Eärendil’s blessing!  He wondered how many other multiple births he’d be attending in the coming years.

As he walked he thought about how Eärendil’s blessing changed everything, for him.  He fell in love again, he was about to marry a child of Man, yet still enjoy many years with her!  And the children from their union would also enjoy a long life, free of illness and disease…  He was at peace with losing his place in Valinor with his family.  He loved them all very much, but somehow, he’d always sensed his destiny was different than theirs.  No, he wanted to be with his _Hind Calen,_  and if that meant following her beyond the bounds of Arda, Daeron was at peace with that.

He would become Mortal - after a fashion, and Rhian would gain years and years from their union, but would she gain anything else, such as Bard had?  The King of Dale now possessed new strength, agility, sight and hearing. But Bard and Thranduil’s union was a different situation entirely, according to Lord Thranduil.

A thought occurred to him, that stopped him in his tracks.

If Rhian gained something, did that mean Daeron would _lose_ anything, when they joined?

What if he lost his powers to heal, when he married Rhian?

He swallowed, and ran his hands over his face, as he thought of something else.

What if he married Rhian, and lost the special gift he had been given, from the Valar?

What if he could never “connect” with babies like that again?

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Ánillo avatyare,_ _málo -_   (Quenya) Forgive me, my friend

 _Aur galu, hîn –_ Good morning, children

 _Suilad, Daeron!  Êl síla erin lû e-govaned 'wîn!_ – Greetings, Daeron!  A star shines on the hour of our meeting!

 _Ae!  Mae g'ovannen, Mellyn nîn!_ – Hello!  Well met, my friends!

 _Niphredil nîn_ – my Snowdrop; a pet name Ermon calls his wife (because of her white-blonde hair.

 

 

**NOTES:**

 

[1] From “What Makes a King,” CH 29: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838010/chapters/26920293


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Royal Family introduces the Lord and Lady to the people of Dale, and the Lady has some insights for the young woman who has stolen her favorite Guardian's heart.
> 
> Daeron makes some important decisions, then has some important meetings.
> 
> Ermon and Elénaril are NOT at all equipped to expand their family, but the Dale folk, plus some helpful Elves, will soon fix that.
> 
> Let's just hope all is well with the expectant mother and her precious little Elflings...

 

 

“I will find you.

In the farthest corner, I will find you.”

** ― Mary E. Pearson, The Kiss of Deception **

 

 

 

**The Woodland Realm, 31 st of August 2943 T.A.**

Bard got out of bed with a yawn, and after kissing his still-sleeping husband, went to splash some water on his face.  He quickly checked in Tilda’s room—

She wasn’t there, but her bed looked like it had been slept in, and her quilt was missing.  The Bowman smiled to himself, then went out to the sitting room, to see her curled up near the hearth, next to Thangon.  Meril, the newly-named pug-nosed dog, was awake and chewing on the giant dog’s ear, as her corkscrew-tail wagged happily.  He reached down and picked her up, “Good morning, you,” he whispered, and was instantly rewarded with a face full of puppy kisses.

It had taken two days for Tilda to decide on a good name, and after several consultations with her _Ada_ , decided she should be called Meril, which means “Rose” in Sindarin.

 

 

 

 

> _“I really like that name, but there’s a girl in my class called Rose, and I don’t want to get them mixed up.  What should I do?”_
> 
> _“I see your dilemma,” Thranduil said, seriously, then offered up his suggestion._
> 
> _“Ooh!  I like it!” She kissed his cheek.  “Thanks, Ada!”_

The next challenge was how to train the pup to relieve herself outdoors, and unfortunately Elven magic could only go so far.

 

 

 

 

> _“She is still just a baby_ , _Tithen Pen; so we must teach her.  I can help, but you must take her out often, and praise her.  And make sure the water bowl is put up in the evenings, to prevent accidents at night.”_

So, armed with small bits of chicken, Tilda took little Meril to the King’s garden at least once an hour and made a fuss when the pup did what was required of her.   Unfortunately, it wasn’t all smooth sailing, so they learned to check the floors often for accidents.

But that was easy to forget, first thing in the morning.

“Ugh,” Bard made a face, as his bare feet stepped in a little “gift” Meril had deposited near the couch during the night.  “Why am I the only one who keeps finding these?”   He hopped on one foot to the bathing room to wash it off, then cleaned up the mess, as Thangon began to stir.  He stepped carefully around the sleeping little girl, walked over to him, and stretch with a yawn, with his rear-end in the air.

“Morning to you, too,” Bard whispered.  “Let’s take you both outside.”

He left their chambers, and after greeting the guards went out into the garden and set the puppy down to frolic in the grass.  After Thangon went a discreet distance away to take care of business, he returned to carefully watch over the tiny dog who was a fascinating miniature version of himself.  Meril yipped and nipped at his paws, then pawed at his front leg and tried to climb him.  Thangon laid down so the pup to crawl on top and play with his ears.

The Bowman sat down on the bench and laughed.  “You’re a pretty good nursemaid, mate.”

It was true.  From that first night, when Meril touched noses with the giant dog, Thangon decided the squirmy, squeaky bundle of joy was his personal responsibility.  The puppy wasn’t intimidated at all by him, and didn’t seem to mind the rough tongue that would clean her off (whether she needed it or not), and never let out a peep, or when Thangon gently picked her up and put her to bed, when her new guardian decided she needed to rest in her basket.

Meril decided it was a wonderful new game, and would jump right back out, only to be picked up and put back in, again.  And again. This would go on for about a dozen rounds, until Thangon gave up and flopped down on his pillow, with a longsuffering sigh.  Meril would crawl up and curl into a ball in the crook of his neck, which was where she wanted to be anyway, and they both had a nap.

Bard and Thranduil were relieved at this development, because as soon as they returned to Dale, school would start, and Tilda would be gone all day, and the Kings would be busy working.  So, in addition to his guard and hunting duties, Thangon was now a governess.

But the Little Bean was not convinced.

 

 

 

 

> _“You can’t take her to school with you.”  Bard told her firmly, because of course, she was going to ask.  “We’ll help Thangon look after her.”_
> 
> _“But Thangon follows you everywhere!  What will she do then?”_
> 
> _Well, Ada, or Auntie Hil or somebody will be around to keep an eye out; don’t worry, love.” he kissed her hair.  “We’ll get her a little collar and leash and make sure she’s all right. You just work at your studies and have fun at recess.”_
> 
> _“But—”_
> 
> _“No buts.  Your schoolwork comes first, unless of course, your spelling has magically improved over the summer?”_
> 
> _She sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes.  “Fine.  But can I take her to school even once to show Miss Eryn and the other kids?”_
> 
> _“If your teacher says it’s all right.  Ask her to send a note home with you, and we’ll arrange it.”_

 

Once Bard was satisfied the dogs had finished with their morning ablutions, he ushered them through the door, where Meril took off a full speed on the smooth polished floor.  “Come on, Meril!” he called, but when the pup tried to stop, she skated along on her rump for a few feet.  This was a wonderful new game, and she was pretty pleased with herself, when she looked back to Bard, who leaned down and clapped his hands.  “Come in, girl!  Come on!”

With a yip and a wag, she scrabbled on the shiny floor and this time, managed to get a nice long slide. “You’re just too clever by half, kid.” He reached down and tried to catch her, but she turned the opposite direction, and tried it again, much to the delight of Bard and all the guards on the Royal Wing.

Eventually, Ivran helped him catch her.  “Enjoy this while you can.” Bard told pup.  “The floors at the Castle are rougher.”

He went into their bedroom and deposited Meril on the bed, where she lurched herself toward the sleeping Elvenking and began to pull his hair.

“ _Naeg, hûneth!”_ Thranduil opened his eyes and sleepily grabbed the tiny offender, as he rolled onto his back and set her on his stomach.  “Do not eat my hair, please.”

“Good morning, love,” Bard leaned down and kissed his husband.  “She’s just been out, just so you know. And remind me to have her show you her new trick.” He grinned.  “You’ll have to see it, before we leave.”

“Is anyone else up?”

“Not yet.  Tilda slept in the sitting room again.  We’ll have to work something out when we get home.”

The Elvenking left Meril to play in the blankets while he went to use the privy, then returned a few minutes later.  “We need to get everyone ready, Bard; the caravan leaves in three hours.”

“Sure thing.  Are any of the Wardens coming back with us?”

“No.  Celeborn spoke with Rúmil last night, but they are eager to begin their journey home.” The Elf shrugged.  “I do not blame them; and there are ten other Wardens who want to see Dale.   Oh, Bard; I am sorry I did not mention it before, but did you meet the dark-haired blacksmith from Lothlórien?  He had spoken to the Lady about accompanying them to Dale, to possibly purchase Bron’s business.”

“You mean the one from the Grey Havens?  Celeborn made a point to introduce me.  Seems nice enough, and I’ve got no problem with it.  How did he end up in Lothlórien?”

“I am not sure.  But my cousin thinks highly of him, so I am not worried.”

“Any friend of Celeborn’s is a friend of mine.  I know Adila’s been looking to sell her house and the forge, anyway.  She and the children will be moving over their new coffee café, in the Market.”

The Kings got dressed, then Thranduil took the pup and roused Tilda, while Bard got the other kids up. 

After breakfast, Bard and Meril showed everyone her new game on the slippery floors, which made everyone howl with delight.   Then it was time to head for the Main Gates, and where the girls and the puppy rode in the wagon with Uncle Percy, while Hilda rode in Galadriel’s carriage with her maids, and Meriel who would be coming to Dale to take over Elénaril’s duties.  Her husband Dior was astride his dapple-grey stallion, and would be riding alongside the Princesses. 

Bain was bonding with his new stallion, Sílnaith, nicely, so he would be riding with the Kings and the Lord of the Golden Wood and their entourage.  Thangon trotted next to _Fînlossen_ for part of the way, then hopped in next to the girls after an hour or so, to keep an eye on his little foster-pup.

 

When the party finally arrived in Dale, Bard wasn’t surprised to see his people line the streets to greet their new guests, and he could see the Lord and Lady were impressed and the genuine affection they had for their King and their obvious pride for their new home. 

The returning Guardians were met with loud cheers and waves, and the children ran up to give them all flowers. 

Bard looked over at his son, sitting proud and tall in his saddle, and his throat tightened to see the shadows of the man he was about to become.  His eyes stung, and heart swelled with pride to see Bain wave at the crowds, and lean down to accept a small bouquet from little Alis, Feren’s daughter, and thank her with a warm smile.  He looked at his husband on _Naurmôr_ , and was surprised that Tilda hadn’t talked her way into his lap.  Then he looked at Celeborn—

Bard chuckled.  Of course, she’d want to show off her new friends.  He could see her waving, and pointing out various people and places and explaining all about her home to the Lord of the Golden Wood, who seemed to be listening carefully.

Just behind him, Galadriel was smiling regally at the crowd, and offering the occasional wave to the flabbergasted Dale-folk.  He could see many of them whisper to each other in wonderment; still they wanted to welcome the famous Lady, the most powerful Elf on Middle Earth.  Galadriel put her arm around Sigrid, and whispered something which made the girl smile.

The party rode through the streets to stop at the Courtyard, where Bard and his party dismounted, when up on the dais and officially welcomed the returning Guardians of the Woodland Realm.  He also gave a speech introducing his people to the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, and there was a short program that the people had prepared, and announce plans for the Welcome Feast.

The party was dismissed, and Hilda and Percy took Celeborn and Galadriel to the guest home, and helped them get settled.

“Turamarth?” Bard called over to the Guardian.  “I don’t see Daeron, do you? Where is he?”

“No.” the Elf was with his parents and his Aunt and Uncle.  “If you will allow, I will get my parents settled, then find out.”

“Fine. Just report back to me, as soon as possible.  It isn’t like him not to be here.”

Rhian and Hannah came over, pushing Darryn in his pram.  “Welcome home, My Lord.” They curtsied.  “How was your trip?”

“It was wonderful.  Do you see Daeron?”

Rhian smiled shyly and blushed.  “Aye.  We’ve seen him.”

“I take it you’re glad he’s home?  I’ll bet he was thrilled to see you and Darryn, wasn’t he?”

“Well…” she winced.  “It didn’t quite work out the way we expected, but it’s wonderful to have him home again.  But he’ll be busy at the Healing House, taking over for Ermon.”

“Is something wrong?” Bard looked at Hannah. 

“Daeron put Elénaril on bedrest, and he thinks the babies will arrive earlier than planned.  I’ve been doing what I can, and I think Meriel’s shifts will start tomorrow.”

“But why?  What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s really wrong, but it seems they’re not having twins, after all.  Daeron found another _babinod_ hiding in there with her brother and sister.

“Wh…”  he was stunned.  “You mean…”

Hannah nodded her head with a grin. “Triplets!”

“Ulmo’s balls…” Bard blew out a breath, then began to laugh.  “Wait till I tell Thranduil!”

“Oh, I think Sigrid’s already done that.” Hannah pointed.  “Look.”

Bard turned to see Sigrid waving her hands around and grinning, as Thranduil’s jaw dropped and his eyes danced.  “Oh, lordy…  More babies for him to play with.”

Hannah laughed.  “I think everyone in Dale will want to play with these babies!  I’ll be working to help cover for them, but I’m going to get together with Seren to help those two get their house ready.” She laughed.  “They won’t know what hit them!”

 

The next evening there was a feast in the Great Hall to introduce the Lord and Lady to Dale.  A formal receiving line was formed, so each family could be introduced and pay courtesies.  Galadriel especially enjoyed greeting all the children, who had been warned by nervous parents to be on their _very best_ behavior _._   As it turned out, this wasn’t much of a problem, because most of them were tongue-tied, as they looked up at very tall _Elleth_ and her husband.

Tilda was standing beside Lord Celeborn, and when Llewelyn and Seren’s family stepped up to be introduced, she tugged at his tunic.

“What is it Little One?” Celeborn whispered.

“That boy is Liam. He’s the one that says I can’t do things because I’m just a dumb girl.”

“Oh, yes,” he recalled.  He patted her hand, then whispered into Galadriel’s ear, then winked down at Tilda.

“And this is Llewelyn, one of Lord Ben’s builders, and his lovely wife Seren.  They have two sons, Ethan, and Liam, and a little daughter, Liliwen.”

“I am honored to meet you, My Lord, My Lady,” the couple bowed and curtsied, and the boys stepped forward to do the same. 

Galadriel smiled, and leaned down and smiled at Ethan.  “You are a strong boy, yes?  And a good swimmer, though I recommend you wait a little while before you go swimming again, yes?”

“Y-yes, My Lady,” Ethan stammered and bowed again.

“And Liam, I am _very_ interested to meet you.”

“Yes, My Lady,” the boy looked up at her with wide eyes. 

The Lady held the boy’s gaze for a moment or two, and though it seems like a conversation had taken place, nothing was said out loud.  The boy said nothing, but bowed again, and rushed back to stand next to his Da.   Eighteen-month-old Liliwen gave them a huge smile and opened and closed her fist several times.  “Can you say hello, to the Lord and Lady, sweetie?”

“Hi,” the baby said shyly, and laid her head on her father’s shoulder.

Celeborn stepped forward and kissed the baby’s hand.  “I am honored to meet such a lovely maiden.”

Then Ben stepped forward to proudly present his daughter and grandson, but before he could introduce them, the Lady of Light eagerly stepped forward and held her hands.

“My dear! At last, the woman who has captured Daeron’s heart!”

“I am deeply honored to meet you both.” Rhian lowered her gaze and curtsied deeply.  “Daeron has written much about your land, and I am anxious to visit it, someday.”

Celeborn kissed her hand.  “You are everything Daeron described, and more.  I wish you both every happiness.  And this must be the precious Darryn.” He held out his arms.  “May I?”  The baby easily went to the Lord of the Golden Wood, and eyed his silver hair with glee.

“Oh, no you don’t, Little Man!” Rhian laughed, and grabbed his hand just in time.  “He’s very friendly, My Lord.”

“Indeed, he is.  He is wonderful, Lady Rhian.  I am happy for you both.”

She smiled proudly at her little boy, but turned toward Galadriel, who reached for her hand again, then cupped her cheek.  After looking deeply into Rhian’s eyes. “Yes,” she said softly, and smiled. “It was just as I thought…  _That which you seek, seeks you, also,”_ she murmured. 

“My Lady?” Rhian was confused. 

Galadriel put her other hand on Rhian’s face.  “Daeron has been waiting for you for a very long time,” she smiled enigmatically. 

The girl blushed, “Yes, I know.  And I will do my best to make him happy.”

“And you will,” she lifted Rhian’s chin, “because _you_ have been looking for him, as well.”

And of that, the Lady of Light would say no more.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 2 nd of September 2943 T.A.**

Daeron had just finished his shift at the Healing Hall, and after going to Ermon’s home to check on Elénaril, he headed over to the Castle for two important meetings.

He blew out his breath, and got himself ready for the first one.

“Come in,” the voice called, when he knocked.

“Good afternoon, Lord Ben,” the Elf said, and tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice. 

“Hello, lad; welcome home!  I hear you’ve hit the ground running, since you’ve been back haven’t you?”

“I do not mind.  It is good to be back at work, though I am sorry I missed the Welcome Feast.”  Daeron sat down and crossed his legs, “I will be working in Ermon’s stead and will not be returning to my position as Lord Bard’s Chief Guard, just yet.  In fact, I am about to request to Lord Thranduil to have me relieved of my Guard duties for the foreseeable future.  I will have to choose between the two occupations, soon.”

“Why, son?”

“Because, My Lor—”

“Call me, Ben, lad.  We’re friends, here.”

“Thank you.  Before this, I served my King as both a Soldier, and a Healer, which occupied almost all of my waking hours.  This did not bother me much, because I love both jobs, and frankly, I am good at them.” he shrugged.  “I am skilled with the sword and bow, and I have been given a Healing gift from the Valar.”

“I’ll not argue with that.  You’re a talented young man, but why the change?”

“Ben, I love your daughter very much, and now that she returns my feelings, I would like your permission to court her, with the intention of making her my wife.  If you are willing to grant this, and we do marry, I want time to be with Rhian and Darryn, and focus on our family.  If we are blessed with more children, I want to be there.”

The City Planner sat back in his chair and studied the Elf carefully.  “I can’t believe I had no idea you were in love with her, Daeron.  Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I spoke with Lord Thranduil, over a year ago, while we are all living at the Palace.  At that time, Darryn was still an infant, and Rhian was still recovering from her injuries, the birth, and…” he swallowed, “and the severe abuse by her former husband.  It would have been selfish of me, and harmful to put any kind of pressure on her.”

“It this why you went away for a year?”

Daeron nodded.  “I was having difficulty keeping things to myself, and I did not want Rhian to know.”

“Why not, lad?  She’s always cared about you!”

“As a good friend, but she was not in love with me, nor was she ready to be in love with anyone; I am sure you agree with that.  Rhian deserved the chance to learn to be strong on her own, before she entered into a relationship.” He sighed.  “I also wanted her to love me for _me_ , not for what I’ve done for her.  I hope you understand.”

“I do.” Ben rested his fingers on his chin and regarded the Elf in front of him.  “I imagine you weren’t pleased when you learned she was stepping out with Evan.”

He swallowed and looked down at his fingers. “That was… difficult.  But she should be free to make her own choices.  Rhian should never be made to feel like she is disappointing anyone for what she does or does not feel.”

“You’re right.  If you want the truth, I liked Evan.  I still do, and had their feelings been different, I think he would have made a good husband to her.  But they’re just friends; you have my word on that.  In fact, now he’s stepping out with Eryn, Princess Tilda’s teacher.  Has been for a month or so.”

“Really?” Daeron hated to admit the great relief he felt.  “And Rhian does not mind?”

Ben laughed.  “No!  In fact, I think she played matchmaker.” he smiled at the Elf.  “You’ve nothing to worry about.  My girl loves you, and I couldn’t be happier about it.”

“So, I may court her?”

“Of course, but I’d like it if you didn’t speak of marriage, at until after Yule.  Give yourselves time to get used to all of this, yeah?  Then, if you both still feel the same way, we can talk about a wedding, maybe in late spring or early summer.” Ben’s gaze intensified.  “Should you marry my daughter, where do you plan on living?”

“Dale, of course.  The Woodland Realm is my homeland, but it is no longer my home,” he assured the Man.  “Even if it were not so, I would never take Rhian or Darryn away from you.  She needs to be near her Da.”

The City Planner nodded.  “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

“There is no need to thank me.  I would also like to offer my congratulations on finding love again with Hannah.  I am happy for you, _Mellon_.”

“Aye, I’m lucky to have her.  She’s a grand lass.”

“Tell me,” Daeron teased, “have you asked her son for permission to court her?”

Ben laughed. “You sneaky sod!  As a matter of fact, I’ve spoken to him about more than that.  I was only waiting for her ring to be finished.  Picked it up this morning.”  He man opened his top drawer and pulled out a small drawstring bag.  “I heard her mention once that she loves rubies, so…”  he opened the pouch and pulled out a gold ring adorned with several small rubies and diamonds

“It is lovely.” Daeron winked.  “Do you think she’ll say ‘yes?’”

“Sure hope so.  I had thought about asking her a while back, then the City was attacked, and they wrecked my house and took the women and children…” the man’s voice wavered.  “I don’t have to tell you how long _that_ night was, do I?”

He didn’t.  Daeron had seen the whole thing in the Mirror of Galadriel,  but he did not feel he could mention it, without the Lady’s permission.

“No.” the Elf sighed.  “Does Rhian suffer from it?”

“An occasional nightmare.  Hannah gets a bit jumpy sometimes, but the girls talk to each other.  Anyway, it didn’t seem right to bring up marriage, until after things calmed down a bit.  I didn’t want Hannah thinking I was asking her because of the attack.”

“I highly doubt she would think that.”

Ben smiled. “Maybe so, but I suppose I wanted us to be well clear of all that, before she started thinking of marrying me.”

Daeron smiled and nodded his head.  “Best of luck to you, sir.  In the meantime, I want you to know that I will respect your wishes, and assure you that I have no intention of dishonoring your daughter.  In fact, I could not do that, even if I wanted to; Elves are not made that way.”

Both Elf and Man stood and clasped forearms.  “I suppose I’ll see you at the house tonight for supper?” Ben offered.

“I would be delighted, and look forward to the evening off.  I have worked at the Healing House almost non-stop. Another Healer from the Palace arrived two days ago, and we are finally caught up, I think.”

“See you then, lad.”

Daeron closed the door behind him, then made his way to the Elvenking’s study, where he found Thranduil going over some papers, with Tilda’s puppy sleeping in his lap.

 _“Mê le 'ovannen, Aran nîn,”_ the Guardian saluted.  “Do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” After Daeron shut the door, Thranduil motioned for him to sit.  “I have not had a chance to speak with you since your return.  Is your work at the Healing House still frantic?”

“Yes, but I am getting acclimated.  I assume you heard Ermon and Elénaril’s news?”

“In a roundabout way,” he Elvenking laughed.  “Hannah sat with Elénaril, and told Rhian, who told Sigrid, who told me.  So, it is not a rumor?”

“It is not.  I expect her to go into labor anytime now, My Lord.” He became serious.  “I would appreciate your prayers, I am experienced with twins, but I will admit I have never delivered triplets.”

“I have every confidence in you, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  I also assume you heard Tilda is thrilled with her gift?”  Thranduil smiled down and the fawn colored ball of fur, who was yipping softly in her sleep.  “Where in the world did you find her?”

Daeron smiled at the puppy.  “I befriended a young couple from the Wold some time ago. The wife, Isbeil was in danger, and I managed to deliver her daughter just in time.  She and Rob have kept in touch, and when I learned Esta was killed, I asked him to see if Isbeil’s mother would sell me a pup from her dog’s next litter.  How does Thangon get along with her?”

“He is completely besotted.  Farien hisses and spits at her, but little Meril is determined to win her.”

“Meril?  That is a nice name.”

“Our _Tithen Pen_ likes flowers.” The Elvenking shrugged.  “I like babies of all types, though I confess I was ready for Farien’s kittens to leave; they got to be a bit much toward the end, and were getting into everything.  Poor Bard almost sat on them a couple of times, and one of them knocked over his inkpots.”

 _“Ai, law!”_ The Guard chuckled.

“What can I do for you, Daeron?”

“I… have some questions, My Lord.”

“I am happy to be of help, if I can.  What is it?”

“I have begun to formally court Rhian, but if she is willing to marry me, I feel I must resign one of my positions in your service.  I am looking forward to having a family, and do not wish to divide my energies as I have been doing.  I want to be a good parent to Darryn, to be available for him, or for any other children we might have together.”

“I see,” Thranduil studied the Elf. “You are correct, of course, and I will gladly work with you on that.  But I sense you are worried about something else?”

“I confess I am.  It is important that you know that I spoke to Ben about Rhian _after_ I was completely certain.” He met the King’s eyes steadily.  “I love Rhian with all my heart, and want to marry her, no matter what the cost.”

“Cost?  Did we not speak of Eärendil’s blessing?”

“We did, and I have no difficulty accepting a Mortal life, albeit a longer lifespan than a normal Man.  Still, there are things I am not sure of, and our marriage could affect my service to you, in significant ways.” Daeron’s face was determined. “I had wondered about this from the beginning, but had put the thought aside.  Now the possibilities are very real.”

“Well, I understand that you will not go to Valinor—”

“It is not that, My Lord.  I have Elven skills in weaponry and of course the agility and strength of my race, but will I lose it?”

Thranduil’s eyes widened. “I do not know…  I was given a missive from Lord Elrond, concerning this subject, but it is locked in my safe at the Palace.  I will send for it as soon as I can.  But what else disturbs you?”

“This is… difficult to consider, but I am determined to face it.” He swallowed and looked at his King and friend.  “My Lord, I was given a powerful and unique gift, one that I cherish.  It is very possible I could lose my ability not only to Heal others, but also to help unborn children, as I have done for many years.”

 _“Ai…”_ The Elvenking covered his mouth, as his eyes widened in alarm.  “I never considered something like this…”

“I know.  Neither did I until three days ago.” Daeron looked down at his lap sheepishly.  “I admit, since that thought occurred to me, the extra hours at the Healing Hall have been welcome, because I needed a few days to think this through, before I continued to pursue a life with Rhian.”

“And you feel sure?”

“As much as I can be.  I love, her, _Aran nîn_.  I cannot imagine turning away from a life with her, even to keep something as wonderful as this!  I cannot give her up!”

“I think you are correct, but why did you not come to me sooner?  You could have written me, or even Lord Elrond.”

“I considered it, but I think it’s important that I come to this decision on my own, so Rhian can feel confident that I give this up freely.”

Thranduil shook his head in amazement.  “She will never doubt her place in your heart, now.  Well done.”

“Still, I have prayed at great length, and I feel that Rhian was _meant_ to be for me; just as my gift was, and I have to believe that the Valar would want me to serve our people in the same way.”

Just then there were hurried footsteps outside Thranduil’s study, and Ruvyn rushed in.

“I apologize for the intrusion, but Daeron you are needed at Elénaril’s house immediately!”

In an instant, both Elves were on their feet and hurrying toward the door. 

“What happened?” Thranduil asked.

“I am not sure, but Ermon says it is urgent.”

“Go find Hannah and tell her she is needed at the Healers’ house right away.  Then find Lady Sigrid; I believe she is on her way home from school.”

“Yes, My Lord,” and Ruvyn was off.

The King and the Guardian raced through the streets as their Guards shouted to make way.  The people stepped aside in alarm, murmuring and with worried looks.

 

***************

 

Ermon had just finished serving his wife her lunch and was finishing up the dishes, when he heard a knock at the door.  “I am coming!” he called out, as he wiped his hands on a tea towel.

The Chief Healer opened his front door, and was taken aback to see a small crowd, bearing bundles and baskets.  “This is a surprise!”

Feren’s wife, Glélindë stepped forward.  “We are here to help you set up the nursery!”

“Come in, please!”  Ermon stepped back and allowed her to come in, followed by Seren, Enid, Catrina, Mona, and Darla, Hannah’s daughter-in-law.  Indis, Anna, and Adila and even Maggie, Constable Tom’s Wife, brought up the rear, all carrying wonderful-smelling baskets of food.

“Something smells wonderful,” Ermon sniffed. “Elénaril is awake, and she is bored beyond belief.  Please; go up and see her.”

After depositing the food in the kitchen, the Chief Healer led the group upstairs into their bedroom.  “We have visitors bearing gifts, _Meleth nîn_.”

Elénaril struggled to sit up, so Ermon propped her up, as she smoothed her hair down in embarrassment.  “I look terrible…”

“You look wonderful.”  Seren came over and kissed her cheek. “Just a bit pole-axed, but that’s to be expected for a first time Mam – especially triplets!”

“We were planning on giving you a big surprise shower next week, but your little ones have a mind of their own, don’t they?  So, we’ve brought the party to you!” She smiled.  “Now, you know babies don’t like to follow schedules, and you’ve been caught by surprise, so we’ve been gathering all kinds of things you’ll need, and we’re here to get you set up for your wee _babinods_.”

She turned to Ermon. “Now, my Llew and some of his boys are on their way, to get your cribs set up.  You don’t want cradles, love.  They’re too small, to keep your wee ones together, and they always make them to rest close to the ground where it’s cold!  No; you’ll need full-sized cribs, but since they’ll stay together for a while…”  She looked around the room, and considered.  “Now, you’ll need one set up in here, at least for the first month or so…”

“Not in the nursery?” Elénaril asked.

“I don’t know about Elven babies, lovey, but most newborns will need a lot of attention, and you’ll get a lot more sleep if you can just keep ‘em close by.  How we’ll set one in here, with supplies, then one in the nursery—”

“And you definitely want one downstairs, to save you traipsing up and down those steps a hundred times a day.  You’ll get too worn out, don’t you think?”

“It is an excellent idea,” Indis nodded, and smiled at Elénaril.  “Do you agree to this?”

“Yes,” the expectant mother smiled.  “I am so used to telling my patients what to do; it seems strange to feel flustered!”

Enid, a woman in her sixties, came over and sat down and took her hands.  “You’re about to be a mother, sweetie.  And triplets would scare the bejeepers out of anyone.”

Tears filled Elénaril’s eyes, and she nodded.  “I am just not ready for that.”

The woman passed around knowing smiles, then Anna said.  “It doesn’t matter of it’s one or six.  No one is ever really ready for a baby!  Even one can be overwhelming to a new Mam.  But you are going to need a lot of help, love.  So, we’ve  decided to help get you through these first few months.”

“But how?”

“We’re going to make a schedule to help you both get things done, and you’ll never get the laundry done without help, so Lord Bard has spoken to Greta at the Castle, and she’s volunteered to see to your laundry.  Someone will be picking it up and dropping it off each day, love.”

 “But Ermon will be here…”

“And he’ll be put to work, don’t you worry.  He can’t be expected to know how all this should be done.” Seren tilted her head and smiled.  “We’re going to get you all set up, and organized like clockwork.  Now,” she opened her basket.  “These are some little gowns that tie down the front. See how there is room to get the baby’s head through?  I’ve also got some nappy covers, to keep their clothes dry.” pulled out some items made from thicker felted wool.  “We call them, ‘soakers,’ and you’ll thank the Valar every day for them.  See how they shape around baby’s bottom, and you can tie them at the waist?  This is for the wee ones, but you’ll need bigger ones as they get older—”

A knock was heard on the door downstairs.  “I will get that.”

“Good, those are my boys, with your furniture.” Seren said.

Indis set down her basket and got up.  “I will go down and direct traffic,” she said.

“I’ll take the food and get it ready,” Catrina smiled.  “Rod will be bringing some ale for the boys.”

 

It turned into quite the impromptu party.  Not only did Llewelyn and his boys bring the three cribs, they also brought three rocking chairs, and the men laughed and talked as they got the cribs put together.  Once the mattresses were installed, the women’s put the sheets on them, tied lengths of padding around the perimeter made of bright striped fabric, courtesy of Lynne and Mona’s Weaver’s shop.

“Babies love stripes for some reason,” Enid approved.  “All six of my _babinods_ smiled at them, and so did my twelve grandchildren.”

There was more.  Óin had gotten word of his friends’ new arrivals, so he sent over lots of ointment for their little bottoms, and Bifur made them some little mobiles to hang over the cribs.

“Hello?”  Bard and Ruvyn stuck their heads in the house, and saw all the activity.  “This is turning into quite the party!  Can I help?”

The King of Dale was pressed into service moving the Sitting Room furniture around to accommodate the crib and the small dresser/changing table.  Llew had just finished putting the crib together, and showed Ermon how to adjust the height of the mattress.  “You want it up, when their small, so you can reach them easier, you see?  But when they are old enough to pull themselves up to stand, lower the slats down to here, so they can’t get out and get into things.”

“Thank you,” Ermon said gratefully.  “I am still trying to absorb all of this.”

“It will take time, _Mellon_ ,” Bard put his hands on the Healer’s shoulder. 

 

When all was said and done, the house was neatly set up and as ready as it could be.  They expectant parents were outfitted with the proper furniture, plenty of nappies, soakers, clothes, blankets, burping cloths, rattles, and just about anything else, these babies could want.

Rod had shown up and passed the ale around for the helpers, and Ermon toasted them and gave a short speech of appreciation.  The ladies had enjoyed a cup of tea and some finger foods, around Elénaril’s bedside, and admired their handiwork, but they could see the Elleth was looking tired, so they gathered their things and made ready to leave, along with the crowd downstairs.

Seren stayed behind to make sure Elénaril was comfortable.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice caught, “I am sorry; I never cry…”

“Nonsense, lovey,”  Seren squeezed her hand.  “We look after each other; it’s the Dale way. And _you_ especially deserve it for taking care of us!”

 “Where is Daeron?  I am surprised he and Rhian did not come.”

“Daeron had some meetings, and Hannah is with Rhian.  They’ll stop by later, to check on you. Now,” Seren asked.  “Can I get you something?”

“ _Ai!”_ the Elleth groaned.  “Would you help me up, so I can use the privy?  I am constantly needing to go.”

“Sure thing.  Now, let’s get you sitting up…”

Seren pulled the covers down.  And stopped.

Elénaril looked down and saw blood.

“ERMON!” she screamed.

 

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS :**

_Naeg, hûneth!_ – Ouch, puppy!

 _Mê le 'ovannen, Aran nîn_ – Well met, My King

 _Ai, law! –_ Oh, no!

 

** NOTES: **

For more information on the ladies at Elénaril’s surprise shower, see CH 4 for an alpha list of characters in the “Two Throne” series….

 


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The triplets are in real trouble, and Daeron and the Elvenking rush to Elenaril's side. They will do their best to save them, but will it be enough?
> 
> Maybe not.

 

[On babies:]

“I love these little people; and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us.”

** ― Charles Dickens **

 

 

**City of Dale, 2 nd of September 2943 T.A.**

Hannah put Darryn down, and smiled, as he ran over to his crate of toys and began to empty its contents all over the floor. 

“I don’t know if we need to keep talking like this so much anymore, do you?” Rhian said.  “I’m fine, really.”

“You are,” the woman smiled, “and you’ve worked hard to get there.  Tell you what: if you ever need to ‘check in’ just let me know, and we’ll set aside an hour or two, yeah?” Hannah squeezed her hand.

“You’ll be my Mam pretty soon anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Hannah looked at Rhian curiously.  “Has your Da said anything?”

“Not in so many words, but of course you’re going to get married, aren’t you?  I mean, if he asked, you’d say yes, right?”

“I think I would.  My son and his family think the world of Ben and you, too.”

“I like Jon and Darla, and the kids love to play with Darryn.  We’d make a great little family, wouldn’t we?”

Hannah opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a pounding on the front door.

“Who could that be?”  Rhian rushed to the front hall to open it, and found Ruvyn looking worried. 

“Mistress Hannah, you are needed at Ermon’s house immediately!”

“Is it the babies?”  Rhian asked in alarm.

“I am afraid so.” The Elf answered, just as Hannah rushed past them both and into the street.  “Daeron is on his way.”

 

***************

 

“ERMON!”  Elénaril screamed frantically for her husband, at the sight of the blood _.  “Natho nín!  Ú law!  Ú! Natho nín, Hervenn nîn!”_

Frantic footsteps thundered up the stairs, and Ermon rushed into the room, followed by Bard and Ruvyn.  He rushed to her side, and looked down, and turned white as a ghost. 

 _“Ai, gorgor!”_ he murmured.  “Quickly!  Lie flat and put some pillows under her bottom; we need to raise her up.”

Bard quickly averted his eyes from the sight of blood, and turned to Ruvyn.  “Daeron’s at the Castle.  Get him here, _now_ , then go find Hannah! Go!”

Elénaril started to cry, and Seren went to her, took her hand, and stroked her forehead.  “Your husband’s here, lovey, and Daeron’s on his way.  You’re in the best hands, but we need you to relax, and make sure you take nice, deep breaths, to help these babies, yeah?  Come on… That’s it…  Do it with me…”

“What do you see?” Bard asked the Chief Healer, who had placed his hands on his wife’s abdomen and was concentrating.

“Part of the placenta has torn away, and there is bleeding,”

“Do not let our babies die!” Elénaril sobbed.

“I need quiet, so I can stop the bleeding, _Meleth nîn_.   Do as Seren tells you, and try to relax.”

Ermon closed his eyes, and instinctively, Bard placed his hands atop the Chief Healer’s, to lend what help he could.

“No, sweetie,” Seren whispered.  “Don’t hold your breath.  Keep breathing.  In and out…”

After a few minutes, Ermon opened his eyes and went to Elénaril and stroked her cheek.  “I’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but I cannot re-attach the part of the placenta.  _Meleth nîn_ , as soon as Daeron gets here, we are going to have to deliver the babies.”

Seren, stood up straight.  “I’ll go and get some water to boiling and gather some extra towels and blankets.  Is there anything else, you need, Ermon?”

“Yes,” the Chief Healer said, one hands still on Elénaril’s abdomen.  “In our bedroom is a brown leather satchel that has my instruments in it.  Please bring it here right away, before you gather everything else.  I would like you to stay, and you too, Lord Bard, if you would.  We will need help to look after the babies when they arrive.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Bard winced, “but I don’t do so well with blood, I’m afraid.”

There pounding on the front door downstairs, and they heard Seren let someone in, and within seconds, Daeron was in the room, followed by Thranduil and Sigrid , who had been on her way home from school, whe she saw the commotion.

 _“Belain hanni!”_ Elénaril gasped.  “I am so glad you are here!”

Daeron instantly shoved Ermon’s hand aside and closed his eyes.  Again, there was utter silence, as they waited for his assessment.  Elénaril tried as hard as she could to keep calm, but her heard was pounding and she panted with anxiety.  _Ai_ , what if something happened to one of the babies?  Or all of them?  She couldn’t lose them…  Tears rolled down her cheeks.  She loved them with all her heart, and even though she’d only known of the third child a few days ago, the little _elleth_ had instantly held a permanent place in her heart.

Never had she known love could be like this.  If it meant her life, she wanted her babies to be saved, and told her husband so.

“Please; do not say such things, _Meleth nîn_.” Ermon looked stricken.  He was doing his best to step back as a father and assume professional distance, but her words had shaken him.

“No!  Promise me: if it comes to a choice, you must save our babies.” She said quietly.

Daeron opened his eyes, then stepped up and put his face close to Elénaril’s.  “Ermon was wise to stop the bleeding right away, and two of the babies are doing well, considering, but we must get one of your little _ellyth_ out immediately.  I have sent her some extra blood through her cord to keep her going for now, but we must put you under a _losta-luith_ , and deliver all of them surgically.  Do you consent to this?”

“Yes!  Do whatever you have to!  Save my babies, Daeron,” she sobbed. “Do not let them die!”

“Ermon?” Daeron looked up at her husband.  “Do you have—”

Just then, Seren rushed with Ermon’s case and opened it up. Daeron heaved a sigh of relief.  “Thank the Valar.  If we had to wait until I fetched my own instruments…   Now, kiss your wife, and put her to sleep, please.”  Bard grabbed the bottle of spirits, and pulled off the cork.  Sigrid quickly grabbed some clean clouts and the three of them wiped down the instruments.

Ermon went to his wife, bent down and took her face in his hands.  “I love you very much.”

She could see the tears on his face, as he kissed her.  “I love you, too.  Save our babies?”

“I promise, I will.”

Still looking lovingly into her eyes, he stroked her forehead and whispered the sleeping-spell, and everything went black.

 

***************

 

Thranduil turned to Bard.  “I do not think you should be here, with your aversion to blood…”

“Oh, don’t worry; I’m going.  But I’ll keep you supplied with hot water and towels.”

“That would be good, My Lord,” Daeron said, as he washed his hands.  Please bring as many bowls and basins as you can find.”

“Sure thing.  Then I’ll be outside, playing the nervous, pacing father for you, Ermon.  Good luck, everyone!” And he was gone.

“Here I am!” Hannah burst in.  “My lands!” she gasped, when she saw Ermon put his wife to sleep.  “You have to operate, Daeron?”

“Yes, and quickly.  I am glad you are here.  You will receive the first infant, and she may need help.  Then Seren and Sigrid can receive the others, while I work on Elénaril, yes?”

“Absolutely.  Whenever you’re ready.”

“Ermon,” Daeron looked at the Chief Healer carefully.  “I need someone to watch over your wife to keep her heart and lungs functioning properly.  I also need help delivering the babies, but if you do not think you can—”

“No.  I will do it.  Lord Thranduil?  Could you stay with my wife?”

“Of course.”  Thranduil leaned over Elénaril and placed his hands on her chest. 

“Seren, I need you to wipe all the instruments with the alcohol, and we need a basin of water—

“That’s already done.”

“Here!” Bard came in with the hot water and soap, which Sigrid took from him. 

“Thanks, Da.  Keep boiling the water, please, and I’ll come get it.  You need to get out of here.”

“I’ll not argue with that, love.  Ermon, I’m going to just outside, and will pray for you all.  You just leave the nervous pacing to me, yeah?  You can do this.”

“Thank you, My Lord,” the Chief Healer took a deep marshaling breath. 

“Are we ready?” Daeron looked around the room.  The instruments were cleaned, the Elves’ hair had been tied back, all hands had been washed, and Elénaril’s abdomen had been cleaned and swiped with alcohol.  Hannah stood at the ready with the setup for the first infant, and Ermon was stacking a pile of small cloths to soak up the blood.  Sigrid and Seren were making sure the crib, was layered with towels to clean off the babies and the top of one of their dressers had been cleared off, and held the basins and the instruments.

“Let us begin, and may the Valar bless us.”

 

***************

 

Bard wasn’t joking when he said he would be pacing nervously outside the room.  As much as he wanted to help, he still got sick at the sight and smell of blood.   He’d hoped that, after his marriage, that problem would be resolved, but so far, no.

It was just as well, anyway. He didn’t handle births well, either, not since his Mattie died suddenly when Tilda was born.   Now, here he was, praying that this would not turn into another tragedy…

He went downstairs and boiled some more water, then poured it carefully into a pitchers and set it outside the room, along with every towel and large bowl he could find.  Then he paced some more, wrung his hands and prayed.

From the upstairs hall window, he heard a noise, and went to look.  A small crowd had gathered, so he went down to the front door and stepped out onto the porch.  Most of the crowd had just left the house, but others who had seen the commotion came out of concern.  The Elven couple were dear to everyone in Dale, because of their dedication to their health and well-being.

“What’s wrong, My Lord?” Catrina asked.  “Has something happened?”

“Thanks for your concern, everyone. There’s been a bit of a situation, but Elénaril and the babies are in the best possible hands, and as soon as I know anything, I’ll come down and let you know.”

“I was wondering why Seren didn’t follow me out,” Llewelyn, her husband said.  “We were all having a good time, just an hour ago!”

“I know; but Daeron’s in there, and you all know how skilled Ermon is.  Lord Thranduil is powerful, too, so they’ve got a good chance, yeah?”  Bard shook his head.  “What _we_ can do, is pray with all our might, and ask Ulmo and the Valar to look kindly on them.  I’ll let you know, as soon as things happen.”

“Please do,” Catrina said, as Rod put his arm around her shoulders.  “Those two have looked after us since we got here; many of us wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for them!”

“I’ll be sure to pass along your good wishes.  Now, I’m going to go back and see what’s going on, so wait here.”  Bard shut the door, and went back upstairs to take his place outside their door. 

And he listened.  There were low, worried murmurs, then— 

“She’s breathing!” came Hannah’s excited voice.  “Oh, thank the Stars!  Come on, little love, make some noise for your Da!  That’s it… take some nice deep breaths…”

A tiny squeak could be heard.  “There we go!  Do you hear that, Ermon?  Your daughter says ‘hello!’”

“She is all right?” came the Chief Healer’s voice.

“As far as I can tell.  She’s getting nice and pink, and kicking her little arms and legs.  She’s tiny, but she’s full of spirit, I can tell you!  Can you make some more noise for your Da, sweetheart?”

The cries came a bit louder. “Yes, lovey, make lots of noise and get those lungs working!”

“Here is the _ellon,_ Hannah!”

“Just a second, pet. Seren, take this little girl, and keep rubbing her, while I get the boy.”

“Got her,” Seren’s voice sounded delighted.  “Listen to you! Aren’t you the sweetest little thing!”

“Ooh!” Hannah exclaimed.  “You’re a _big_ boy, aren’t you, son?  He’s twice the size of his sister, isn’t he?  Now, come on…  Let’s get you going…  Come on…”

Bard heard another small voice begin to cry, louder, and angrier.  “Oh, he’s got some good lungs, doesn’t he?”  Hannah laughed.

“He sounds wonderful,” Ermon’s voice was husky.

“He does,” Daeron said with relief, “now, we need to fetch this last little one and finish up, Ermon. I need you to concentrate.”

“Yes, of course; I am sorry.”

“Do not be.” Bard heard the Guard’s soothing voice.  “And… here we are!  Hannah, can you take her, please?”

“I sure can,” the midwife said.  “Sigrid, you’re up; take this little boy, will you?”

“I’ve got him,” his daughter’s calm, soothing voice filled Bard with pride.  “Oh, he’s so cute!  Come on little one; let’s get you washed up…”

Bard moved closer to the door, when he didn’t hear a third cry, but heard Hannah cooing, then murmuring.

“Hey Daeron?” Hannah’s voice was deliberately calm, and too soothing. “How about having a look?  This little girl’s a bit quiet...”

“What?  What is wrong?”  Ermon sounded panicked.

“Perhaps nothing,” Daeron said firmly.  “You must stay with your wife, _Mellon,_ and finish up.  I will be back.”

“I’ll go help him,” Hannah said, was the sound of water splashing, as Bard heard her scrub her hands.  “Just let me get a basin…  Okay, Ermon, tell me what you need…”

“How is my wife, Thranduil?”

“Her heart is steady, and so is her breathing, Ermon. She seems strong.”

 

The other two babies had finally quieted down, and in the room was a tense silence.  Bard leaned his ear against the door and prayed. 

_Please…  Please…  Oh, gods…_

“Daeron?”  Hannah sounded worried.

Nothing.

Bard’s stomach clenched, and his eyes closed.  _No, no, no…_ He heard the Guardian begin to sing in Quenyan, and Ermon’s voice joined him, though he was sobbing.

The door opened, and Bard stepped back quickly, to allow Sigrid out in the hall, holding the newborn _Ellon._

Bard peeked down and saw dark hair, pointed ears and grey eyes looking up at him.  “He’s beautiful.  What’s happening in there?”

Sigrid’s eyes filled.  “They can’t get the little girl to breathe yet, but they’re trying.  She’s limp and blue, and...  Ermon’s too upset…”

“All right,” Bard pushed past her, and went in, to see Daeron and Ermon working frantically but the Chief Healer clearly could not concentrate, however much he wanted to.  The Bowman went to Thranduil, who was still stationed over the sleeping Elénaril.  “You go.  I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“But you—”

“I just won’t look away from her face, and breathe through my mouth.  Get over there, love.  Go!”

Thranduil kissed Bard’s temple, and joined the others.  He put his hands on Ermon’s shoulders, and gently pushed him aside.  “Go and see your other children, _Mellon_ _nîn_.  I will see what I can do.”

Sigrid came back into the room, and placed the male elfling in Ermon’s arms, and Seren gave Ermon his daughter, and led him over to the comfortable chair by the bed.  “Now you just concentrate on these two, love, while they help your other little one.”

Bard, in the meantime, stroked Elénaril’s pale face, and placed his fingers underneath her jaw.  Pulse was good – steady at least; he didn’t really know how slow or fast a normal Elf’s heart should beat, but her color was good.

“Don’t look, Bard; I’m just taking care of the afterbirth here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Hannah; I won’t.” Bard took deep breaths, and held his hand up to shield his peripheral vision.

“Sigrid,” Hannah called.  “Get over here and take this bowl.  Ermon?  How are you doing?”

Before the Chief Healer could answer, a soft cry was heard from the last little girl, and everyone in the room heaved a sigh of relief, and Ermon started to cry.  Bard’s eyes spilled over, as well.

“Is she all right?” he asked.

“She is now.” Daeron answered, as he continued to rub the baby down vigorously.  “Her lungs were not fully developed, but thanks to Lord Thranduil, we have matured them, and she’s taking in air, and her heart is getting stronger. She’ll need some attention for a bit, but I think she’ll live.”

Daeron look at Elénaril, then back at the Elvenking.  “I need to close and heal her wounds.  Would you please keep watching this infant?  Keep her heart at this steady pace, and help her breathe, My Lord.”

“Of course.” The Elvenking placed three fingers over the little chest and sang softly.

Bard smiled as the atmosphere in the bedroom became joyful.  Ermon was sitting and holding two of his children and crying with happiness, as Thranduil looked after the third child.  Seren helped wash her off, then they wrapped her in several warm blankets and carefully put her in the King’s arms, while he kept his hand on her chest and sang.  The infant’s cries were getting louder and stronger, and when she began to wave her arms around, everyone knew she would be all right.  Hannah helped Daeron finish up while Seren and Sigrid quickly gathered the dirty laundry, removed the basins with soiled water, and began scrubbing down the room.

When at last Elénaril’s incision had been sung closed, Bard and Thranduil were asked to step out, while Daeron and the women changed her bedding, washed her up, and got her into a clean nightgown.

The sight of the bloodied bedding in Sigrid’s arms made Bard’s stomach turn.  

“Da-a!  Don’t look!” she scolded, as she passed him in the hall.

“Sorry,” he winced, and so he focused on the tiny Elfling in Thranduil’s arms.

“She’s beautiful…. You were right; Elven babies do have larger ears...  Was Legolas this small?”

“No.  He was much bigger, but he did not have to share his mother’s womb with two others.” Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment. “I think she is fine, now.” As if to answer, the babe opened her eyes again, blinked up at the Elvenking and began to cry lustily.

“That is a beautiful sound.” Bard buried his face in Thranduil’s shoulder.  “You did great, love. I’m so proud of you.”

“You should be proud of yourself, _Meleth nîn_ ; I know it was not easy to be in there.”

“Believe it or not, it was harder to listen to all that; my imagination was going to places I didn’t like.”

Sigrid came back upstairs (without the laundry, thank the Stars), and reentered the room, only to come back with the other women.

“Daeron’s going to wake up Elénaril, and let Ermon show her the babies.” Sigrid told them. “We thought they should have some privacy.” She hugged Bard, with a smile.  “I’m amazed you didn’t get sick.”

“I think I can turn this little one over to her father. I will be right back.” Thranduil stepped into the room.

Bard kissed his daughter’s cheek.  “Well done, darling.”

“What’s that noise?” Hannah asked, as she looked toward the upper hall window.

“Oh!” Bard palmed his forehead.   “There’s a mob outside waiting for news!”

“Is Llew out there?”  Seren asked.

“Aye; and about fifty others, last time I looked.”

“I’ll go down and tell everyone,” she offered.  “I’ve got to get home to the kids, anyway.”

“Thanks, lovey,” Hannah hugged the woman.  “We did it!”

“We _all_ did it!  Let me know how Elénaril is, would you?”

“Sure thing.”  The midwife waved her off.  A few minutes later, there was the sound of cheering, outside.

 

***************

 

“Elénaril?  _Meleth nîn?”_

She heard the voice coming from far away…   Ermon.  It was her husband calling her, and she struggled to open her eyes,

“Take your time, _Mellon_ , relax.” That was Daeron. “All is well.  You are fine, and so are your children.  Can you squeeze my hand?”

She did.  As hard as she could.

“Very good. You all did wonderfully, and your babies are alive and healthy, and anxious to meet their _Naneth._ Can you open your eyes, now?”

She blinked and saw light, then Ermon’s face. He was smiling with tears on his face.

 _“Ae, Suilad, Meleth.”_ Ermon sniffed _.  “_ We are parents.”

“They are well?” She whispered.

“They are.  Our daughters gave us a bit of a fright, but they are eager to meet you.  Listen,” he kissed her cheek, as the soft sounds of crying reached her ears.  Instantly she was wide awake, and tried to sit up.

“Here; let us help you.” Daeron and her husband quickly had her sitting up, and Ermon sat beside her, and handed her a warm, squirming blanketed bundle.  “Meet our son, _Meleth nîn.”_

“Oh, he looks like you!” She cried.  The infant regarded his mother with dark blue eyes, then yawned.

“The _Ellon_ was your second-born; here this is the your first,” Daeron gave her the child, and set her in the crook of her other elbow. 

Elénaril gasped.  “She’s so small! Is she all right?” She looked up at Daeron with concern. 

“She is fine.  It was your third child that gave us a hard time,” he brought her the third child, who was bigger, and had pale hair and eyes.  “Lord Thranduil and I had to give her a bit of help, but rest assured, she is in no danger.”

Ermon took their son, so she could check her youngest daughter, who began to cry.  “Oh…” instinctively, she rocked and jostled her, to help her calm down.  They are all so beautiful!” And burst into tears.

Ermon kissed her hair, then her lips.  “I do not think I have ever felt so happy.”

 

***************

  

Sigrid and Hannah went to the kitchen to clean up all the basins and get started on the laundry, while the Kings waited in the hall, and listened as Elénaril woke up and met her brand-new babies.

The Kings re-entered to see both parents sitting on the bed, as Ermon held one of the babies, and Elénaril was unwrapping one of the girls, checking her from head to toe.

“She’s perfect…  They all are.” She said tearfully. 

“Congratulations, _Mellyn nîn,”_ Thranduil smiled. 

Her hands cupped around the heads of both girls, and stared at them in wonder, “I was so frightened when I saw the blood, and now…” she sniffed at smiled up at her husband. “We have a family.”

“Have you thought about names?” Bard asked. 

“Yes.  Our firstborn, we have named _Calapîa.”_

“‘ _Little_ _light_ ,’” Thranduil interpreted.  “That is very sweet.” He smiled down at the auburn-haired child.

“And our other daughter,” Ermon pointed to the baby with the lighter hair, “shall be called, _’Almarë.’”_

“What does that mean?” Bard asked.

“’ _Blessed_ _fortune_ ,’ in Quenya.” The Elvenking answered.  “A worthy name, and may she always be so. And your son?”

“We cannot seem to decide; we were still debating when… all this happened.”

Thranduil held out his arms.  “May I?” 

Ermon handed over his son, and the Elvenking looked intensely at the infant, who regarded him calmly.  Bard peeked over and smiled.  “Do Elven babies’ eyes change?”

“No. He looks like his _Ada_.” Elénaril answered, with a smile.

But Thranduil didn’t answer.  He was regarding the tiny elfling, then said, “I do not normally share my foresight with new parents, but for you, I will make an exception.  Might I suggest the name _‘Nórimo?’”_ he handed the ellon back to his father.  “In Quenya,” he explained to Bard, “it means ‘ _strong_ and _swift_.’ There is a calmness in his _fëa…_ he will be a natural protector and seeker of justice.”

Thranduil placed his hand on the baby that had given them all such a scare.  She was calmer in her mother’s arms, yawning, and smacking her lips.  “Little _Almarë_ will be a quiet and shy little elleth, who will not like crowds, but will enjoy being in the safe circle of her family.” He smiled.  “I see her with a quiet life, and she will love nothing better than tucking up in the library with her nose in a book.  Perhaps she will even write a few.”

Ermon leaned down and kissed his new daughter’s head.  “She looks like you,” he said to his wife. “Her hair is so light.”

Bard watched with a smile, as the tall Elvenking asked to hold little _Calapîa_ , and began to laugh.  “ _Ai!”_ He laughed.  “This one might be tiny in size, but she is mighty in spirit!” he fingered her little ears, and let her grip his finger.  “She will be a chatterbox, just like our Tilda, I think, and will worry her parents to distraction, with her eagerness to experience new things!” Thranduil smiled at her parents.  “Though she will always be small, she will be a fierce ally to her bold brother and quieter sister.”

Thranduil handed her back to her parents, just as Hannah and Sigrid came in with a tray of food for the new parents. 

“Here’s your dinner, you two.” Hannah set one of the trays down. “You can just nibble as you want.”  She peeked into the crib, then to the dresser/changing table.  “Looks like you’re all set up, so I’ll be going.” The midwife leaned down and kissed both new parents.  “I’m so happy for you.”

Bard nudged his husband.  “We should go, too.  Congratulations on your family.” 

 

Daeron stayed behind, to keep checking on the infants, as the rest left and made their way home.

“Have a good evening, Hannah,” Bard waved.

“Same to you, My Lord.  Well done, Sigrid!”

“Thank you,” the girl said, shyly. 

Bard put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders.  “I’m proud of you, too.” He kissed her temple.  “Do you have a lot of homework?”

“Yes, but I’ll stay up late and get it done.”

“No, you won’t.  I’ll write a note to your teacher, explaining what you were doing, although I have a feeling she’ll have heard all about it by tomorrow.  News like this, always travels fast.  You look exhausted, darling, so I want you to get something to eat, a hot bath and get to bed.”

“Okay, Da.  I am tired, to be honest.”

“Are you well, _Iellig_?” Thranduil gave her a concerned look.

“Oh, aye, but it was frightening and wonderful… I don’t know how Hannah and Daeron do it.” She looked up at her _Ada_ with clear admiration. “I don’t know how you kept calm when the baby was so bad off!”

“It was difficult, _Iellig_ , but I have had years of practice controlling my emotions.  Ermon is much older than me, but no one could expect him to keep his composure; those were his own children, and he was operating on his own wife.  Even he was stretched beyond his limit.”

 “Ermon’s older than you?”

“Yes. In fact, he helped my mother at my own birth.”

Sigrid just stared at him, and shook her head.

Bard laughed and kissed her hair.  “Don’t try, or you’ll drive yourself crazy, love.  Just accept it for what it is.  I’m surprised Galadriel didn’t show up today, aren’t you?”

“I am not.  Daeron told me that she still recovers from banishing the Necromancer.  Her efforts with Tilda set her progress back some, though I am grateful.”

“Is she all right?”

“She just needs to make sure not to exert herself like that for a long while.  Daeron took Celeborn aside after they healed Tilda and urged him to make sure she rested.”

“Has the trip here been hard on her?”

“If it has, she will not admit it.  She was resting today, for our trip to Erebor tomorrow.  I expect to be back on Friday, but if things go well there, we might stay longer.”

“And if things don’t… you’ll be back sooner?  It’s a big deal that Dáin likes you, but many say she is a witch, and the Dwarves might believe that.”

“Dáin knows what she and Daeron did for Tilda, and about Celeborn’s help when I was…  when we rescued the hostages.  They all love our _Tithen Pen,_ and will be happy to meet her.”

 

After they had their supper and got the kids to bed, Bard led his Elf into their bedroom, pulled their hips together and gave him a hard kiss that left them both weak in the knees.  “I was so proud of you, today.”

“And I was amazed at you, _Hervenn nîn._ You were brave to come in and help.”  Thranduil nuzzled his neck.

“I think I should reward my Elf for all that work, don’t you?”  Bard whispered,  “ _I dhû hen and,_ _Meleth nîn_ …” he grinned rakishly.  _“Man ídhrog: am egor nu?_ Anything you want, love; I’m yours.”

Thranduil said nothing, but grabbed Bard by the back of his head and thrust his tongue into his mouth for another a long, deep kiss.  Then to Bard’s great delight, the Elf picked the Bowman up, threw him on the bed with a throaty growl, and proceeded to have his way.

 

 “Oh gods...” Bard panted, as he flopped over onto his back.  “You should save new babies more often…. I love it when you come hard like that; you had us both shaking.” He held up his hand and laughed.  “Look at me; I’m still trembling!”

Thranduil hummed, as he stretched with a deep, sated groan, looking satisfied with himself.  “I confess, I wanted you badly after we left Ermon’s house.  Something about all that new life, made me want to celebrate my own with you.”

“Oh, I’d say you managed it,” the Bowman snickered.  “Actually, I was thinking the same thing.”  

“Why do you like seeing me with babies so much, _Meleth nîn_?”

“It’s the look on your face when you hold them.  You revel in their simple innocence, and I can see how much you need that.” Bard rolled on his side and propped his head up.  “It’s the same when you and Tilda are together.  I love to watch all your cares, and worries and bad memories disappear, because when that happens, are just so beautiful, I can hardly breathe.”

Thranduil turned to face him and kissed him softly. 

Bard smiled, then snickered. 

“What is so funny?”

“Oh, I was thinking about Daeron.  If today made us so horny, can you imagine how _he_ feels?”

 

***************

 

It was late by the time Daeron left the Ermon’s house.  Elénaril had fallen back asleep, and one of the assistants from the Healing House had come to stay and watch over the babies, so Ermon could rest as well.

Ermon insisted he share a bit of their supper, so at least his stomach wasn’t growling, but he was famished when he got back to his and Turamarth’s apartment.

“You look terrible, _Gwador_ ,” Tur was sitting on the couch, reading, when he came in.

“I do?” then Daeron looked down at his blood-stained clothing.  “ _Ai!_ I did not notice.  I hope the people I passed in the streets were not frightened.”

“Trust me: _everyone_ knows what you have been up to today, and no one is judging you.  How are they?”

“They are well, thank Varda.  It was…” he shook his head.  “I have never done anything so difficult in all my years as a Healer…”  Finally, all the nerves of the harrowing delivery hit the Guard, and he was about to sink down onto the chair—

“Wait!”  Tur yelped. grabbed his arm.  “You will get blood all over our furniture!”  He led Daeron to the bathing room.  “I have been keeping the water hot for a bath, so get those clothes off, and get in!”

Daeron tiredly did as he was told, and sighed. “This is wonderful...”

“I don’t know if these clothes can be salvaged, _Gwador_.  I’ll go bring you some sleeping pants—”

“No!” Daeron sat up straighter.  “Please…  I need to see Rhian; her father invited me to dinner tonight and I did not show up.  I must make amends.”

Turamarth looked puzzled.  “They know what you have been doing.”

“Still…” he gave Tur a pleading look.  “I… need to see her.”

Turamarth raised his eyebrow and a slow grin swept across his face.  “Ah.  Thinking about making babies yourself?  Or maybe you are thinking about _practicing_ making babies—  _Naeg!”_ he howled, as a bar of soap hit him square in the nose.  _“Ni harn, Pen-'ur! Am man agóreg?”_

 _“Avo vuio.”_ Daeron scowled.  “I am not thinking about… that.”

“Yes, you are.” Tur smirked.

_“Ego puitho orch!”_

“Here,” his cousin handed him back the soap.  “Use this to wash out your mouth while I get you change of clothes.”

Daeron sighed, and sank down and reveled in the hot, relaxing water for a few moments, then he scrubbed off all the dried blood that had soaked through his clothes.  He’d probably be better off just burning them, anyway, but it couldn’t be helped.  He was in such a rush, he never thought to even ask if Ermon had any leather aprons at his home.  Then again, Ermon was too upset to think about it himself, too.

But all that mattered was that it ended well, because he knew the tragedy of losing such a precious little being.  He’d seen it on the faces of the mothers, when he’d had to tell them their infants were no longer alive, and felt it in his heart, all those times he’d tried his best to revive a babe, but to no avail.  Empty, aching arms is the worst kind of agony.

This, of course, made him think of his little Sellwen, and her mother Miriam.   The years had been kind to dull the pain, and he was incredibly blessed to have found Rhian, but still…  He thought of her little _fëa_ , how it instantly bonded with his, and the question that had always haunted him, ran through his mind again:  What _did_ Eru Ilúvatar do with souls of Men who had been taken before they even had a chance to be born? 

The unfairness of it still stung, even after all these years.

“Here you are,” Turamarth returned with a change of clothes and set them on the chair.

“Thank you.”

“Have you eaten?”  his cousin looked at him with some concern.

“Some, but I am still very hungry.”

“Finish up and I will get you something.”  His cousin grinned.  You are a hero, you know; everyone was talking about it in the Market.  I plan to take advantage and bask in your shadow as long as possible.  Maybe I can get free cookies from the baker, or something!”

This made Daeron laugh, and he finished his ablutions with a smile on his face. 

He was dressed and combing out his hair in his bedroom, when there was a knock on the door of the apartment.

“Coming!” he heard his cousin shout, then opened the door.  “Rhian!  What a surprise!”

All the air left Daeron’s lungs in that moment, and his heart started to pound.  He quickly finished braiding his hair, and went out to find Rhian holding a basket of food.

“Hello,” she said shyly. 

“Hello,” he breathed, and tried to ignore Turamarth, who kept looking between the two of them and grinning.

“You missed dinner, so I thought I would bring it to you.” She held out the basket.  “There’s some chicken pie and I made…spice cake,” she smirked.

“It will be nice to eat it, instead of wearing it.” Daeron took the basket, and stared into her green eyes. “It is good to see you, Rhian.”

“Uh… well, if you two will excuse me, I have already eaten, so I will just…” Turamarth picked up his book, “finish reading this.  In my room.”  He headed down the hall, then called back, _“With_ my door _open!”_

He rolled his eyes and laughed.  “Come, _Hind Calen_ ,” he took her and the basket into the kitchen, where she had him sit down at the small table, and fixed him a plate and made a pot of tea.

“This is nice,” she said.

“And this is absolutely delicious!” Daeron tried not to wolf down his food, but couldn’t help it.  “I am very hungry.”

“I don’t doubt it.  Hannah came over to the house and told Da and me all about it.” She reached over and took his hand.  “She said you were a real hero.”

“Hannah deserves a great deal of credit, as does Ermon, and Lord Thranduil.  It was a collective effort, and to be honest, those children needed all the help they could get.”

“But still, Daeron, she said the little girls almost died!”

The Elf stopped and swallowed.  “Yes.” He said quietly, then shook his head to rid himself of the memory. “But, all is well, and Ermon will make sure his wife and children are healthy.  I will check in tomorrow, but at this point, I am not worried.”

“I’m so proud of you, love.  I really am.”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and pulled his chair back from the table.  “Come here,” he opened his arms.

She got up and sat down on his lap, and he buried his face in the soft pillows of her breasts and inhaled her scent.  She always used a wonderful-smelling verbena.

 “I love you,” he whispered, as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.  “I still cannot believe you are here in my arms, Rhian.  You have made me so happy.”

He felt her kisses in his hair and on his temple.  “I love you, too.  And I can’t believe you love me, either.”  She pulled back, took his face in her hands, and kissed his mouth, softly at first, then deeper and harder.

He moaned and opened his mouth, and their tongues explored each other, and one of his arms moved from around his waist to caress her cheek, then her throat, then slowly moved down to cup her full, round—

“Don’t mind me,” Tur suddenly appeared, making them both jump. “Oh!”  Then his cousin quickly shielded his eyes.  “I am not looking, I promise…” his hand flailed out to feel along the kitchen counter.  “I just wanted to snitch a piece of cake; I can smell it from my room, through my *ahem* _open door_ , and it smells wonderful…”

Rhian burst into laughter and got up and cut Turamarth a piece of cake.  “Here, nosy.  Now get you gone, so I can spend some time with my intended.”

“You heard the lady,” Daeron grinned.  “Get out of here.”

 

If he were honest with himself, he was a bit relieved Tur had shown up just then, and while Rhian was serving up the cake, he closed his eyes and forced his hard, throbbing erection down.  He had promised her father, and he would honor his wishes, but it was difficult.

 _…Ai, he wanted this girl!_   He wanted to be one with her _fëa_ , and he wanted to taste every inch of her body until they both exploded with pleasure.  He wanted to be inside of her, looking down at her face…

The next eight months were going to be agony.

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Natho nín!  Ú law!  Ú! Natho nín, Hervenn nîn!_ – Help me!  No, this cannot be!  No!  Help me, my husband!

 _Belain hanni! –_ Thank the Valar!

 _Mellyn nîn_ – My friends

 _I dhû hen and,_ _Meleth nîn_ … -  You’re in for a long night, My Love…

 _Man ídhrog: am egor nu?_ – What do you want; top or bottom?

 _Naeg!  Ni harn, Pen-'ur!_ _Am man agóreg?_ – Ouch!  That hurts, you idiot!  Why did you do that?

 _Avo vuio_ – Stop whining

 _Ego, puitho orch_ – Go fuck an Orc

 


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are busy in Dale! There’s a new Castle, a coronation, a betrothal, and a wedding - not necessarily in that order!  Daeron’s friends help him take part in a time-honored male ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well kids, only one more chapter, and we will have reached the end!  I will not abandon this universe, but from here on in, my stories will be shorter, and some will even be one-shots.  May I respectfully suggest you either subscribe to the series, or to my username, so you don’t miss any of it?  This way you will receive email updates!
> 
>  

 

“A portion of your soul has been entwined with mine

A gentle kind of togetherness, while separately we stand.

As two trees deeply rooted in separate plots of ground,

While their topmost branches come together,

Forming a miracle of lace against the heavens.”

** ― Janet Miles, Images of Women in Transition **

 

**City of Dale, 2 nd of November 2943 T.A.**

At last, Bard had felt ready to be officially crowned as the King of Dale. 

Well, it wasn’t so much that _he_ _felt_ ready, but Hilda put her hands on her hips, stomped her foot and announced that this nonsense had gone on long enough.  After some discussion, it was decided the Coronation would take place on the anniversary of their arrival in Dale: the second day of November – two days after Laketown had been destroyed.

“It is fitting, _Meleth nîn,”_ Thranduil had agreed, “for that was the day you claimed your birthright, and became a King.”

“So, you keep saying,” Bard rolled his eyes.  “I was just getting them to some shelter.  I don’t know about all that fuss for me.”

“It won’t be for you,” Percy told him.  “It will be for the people of Dale.”

Still, Bard was uncomfortable, because his people didn’t know the entire truth about their King; his marriage had changed him, and strictly speaking, he wasn’t even a Man anymore.  After giving it some thought, he knew he couldn’t accept the crown until his people knew everything.

“I have to tell them, love,” he told Thranduil back in September while they were in bed.  “It would feel like I’m taking the Crown under false pretenses, and I just can’t do that.”

“What will happen if your people do not accept you as you are?”

Bard sighed.  “Then I’ll step aside.  I’d hate it, but it would be better than sitting on a Throne with a lie on my heart.  There’s another reason, too:  a secret like that could be used as leverage by anyone who wanted to undermine me.”

“I think you are correct.”  Thranduil eased Bard’s head onto his shoulder and kissed his hair.  “Tell them when you hold court next week.  Whatever happens, we will stand by you.  And should they depose you,” he nudged his Bowman, “you can all come live with me at the Palace.”

”As wonderful as that sounds, I’d like to stay.”

”I know, _Meleth nîn.”_

So the King of Dale nervously stood before his people in the Great Hall, and told them everything.  

After all that bother, the reaction of the crowd was annoyingly anticlimactic.

“That’s it?” was the general response, along with, “And?” Others just shrugged their shoulders and said, “Tell us something we don’t know!”

 Rod stepped forward to explain to the befuddled King.  “My Lord, we always knew you’d be different, back when you married the Elf King!  We’re not worried; you’ve proved your quality a hundred times over, and made a good life for us here, and no one can say different! Personally, I don’t give two shits if you grow pointy ears and start swinging from the treetops; you’re our King, and that’s how it is!”  Then he cleared his throat.  “If you’ll pardon my language, Lord Bard.”

The rest of the crowd murmured their agreement.

“We knew all this when we signed that scroll last year,” Farmer Jarvis crossed his arms, “and that still stands, My Lord.  You’re our King, you’ll stay our King, so let’s get on with it, yeah?  I’ve got crops to tend to!”

“That went well,” Bard said to Percy, later.

“Course it did.  They pretty much guessed, when you wouldn’t do your weapons training in front of anybody.” The Steward grinned and slapped him on the shoulder.  “They’d never get rid of you, anyway.”

“What makes you say that?”

“If they ousted you, one of _them_ would be stuck with your job!”

 

Today, the newly-finished Throne Room in the almost-finished Castle was filled with invited guests, all dressed in their finest.  There was a low hum of murmured excitement, until the trumpets announced that the ceremony was about to start. 

The tall doors opened, and the Council Members of Dale led the procession:  Lords Ben and Alun, Lord Percy and Lady Hilda, followed by Evan who escorted Lady Rhian, then Tom the now-Chief Constable and his son Egon.  

The Royal Family was next in line, and Lady Tauriel came next, looking beautiful in her dark green velvet dress, wearing her gold and Peridot tiara which shone against her red hair.  She was holding Princess Tilda’s hand, who was grinning and waving to the audience to her left and right, like her _Ada_ had taught her, which made everyone smile and chuckle.  She looked cute with her dress that matched her eyes, and her hair was done in ringlets, adorned by her thin diamond encrusted headband with the silver dragonfly. 

Princess Sigrid walked solemnly on her brother’s arm, and of course her garnet-and-diamond parure sparkled against her dark hair and neck, but could not compare to how lovely she was.  Crown Prince Bain’s head was bare (he would receive his princely crown on his 18th birthday), but he stood tall and proud next to his sister, wearing formal regalia with the Seal of Dale embroidered over his heart, and a crimson sash that crossed his right shoulder and was pinned at the hip with an Elven brooch. 

When everyone was assembled on the platform, the music changed, and the King and Queen Under the Mountain entered in full regalia, followed by Balin, Dwalin and all the remaining members of the Original Company.  Queen Dilna carried a red velvet pillow bearing the original crown of Dale.  This crown had been found in the Lonely Mountain amidst the hoard of Smaug, and though it had been badly damaged, the Dwarven smiths worked carefully to restore it to all its former glory.

Next to enter were six members of the Royal Guard of Dale: Daeron, Turamarth, Ivran, Ruvyn, Nualë and Dior, looking resplendent in the golden armor of the Woodland Realm, polished to perfection, and wearing the red capes of their rank.  On their left, they carried their shining helmets, with their swords hanging from their right hip (No one missed the look that passed between Daeron and Rhian, as they stood on either side of the platform, nor the blush on Rhian’s face, when the Elven Guard smiled and winked at her).

Then came Commander Feren, in his armor and green Cape with gold-and-red trim.  With him was Lt. Commander Mablung, Feren’s Second-in-Command, in a simpler, less-ornate version of his Commander’s cape, yet looking just as smart and beautiful as all the rest of the Fair Folk present.

 

The pause in the music was the signal for everyone to stand.  Then music turned jubilant, as King Bard the First, entered his Throne Room for the first time, wearing his brand-new suit of mithril armor (a gift from his husband), bearing the golden seal of Dale on his chest, and a cape of royal blue, swept over one shoulder to reveal its crimson lining.  

At his throat he wore the Elven clasp (a wedding gift from the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien), and on his right forefinger he wore a large emerald and gold ring, with his name engraved on it, which was a gift from his children (with the help of Uncle Dáin). 

Bard slowly walked toward the throne with his hand resting atop that of his beloved husband,  Thranduil, son of Oropher, King of the Woodland Realm, also wearing his mithril armor, his black cloak with crimson lining (wearing his matching clasp), and his diadem with the single moonstone on his brow.  Around his neck was the gold-and-emerald Necklace of Girion, a treasured gift from his husband.

When they reached the platform, the music stopped, and Bard’s voice echoed around the Hall as he thanked his people for their faith in him, and his family for supporting him (at this, his voice became rough, and he had to stop for a second to regain control).  He told them he wished to dedicate his reign to his beloved father, Brand, son of Brenin, who had _never_ needed a crown to be a King among his people. 

At this, everyone from Dale applauded with enthusiasm, and not a few wiped their eyes.  Most of them remembered Bard’s father with deep affection and admiration.

Then he turned, and knelt on the steps on a large pillow.  King Thranduil came to stand before him, placed his hands atop Bard’s head, and offered a prayer to Eru Ilúvatar and the Valar for this Man, that he may continue as a good and strong ruler of his people.  He prayed for the North, that they would remain united and steadfast before all enemies, and would continue to prosper in wealth and friendship.  Thranduil’s eyes glistened with love and pride, as he then stepped aside, so the King and Under the Mountain could offer the same. 

Queen Dilna came forward, and together, Thranduil and Dáin placed the crown on Bard’s head.  Thranduil helped the King to his feet, and escorted him up the platform to sit on his Throne.  It seemed to everyone present that Bard was more than just the Man they all knew.  They could see the strength and greatness of all his forebears, and they knew their Kingdom would be truly blessed.

Lord Percy, the Steward and Herald of Dale, stepped forward and addressed the crowd: 

“Behold; Bard the First, Son of Brand, Heir of Girion and Dragonslayer of Laketown, King of Dale and all its surrounding lands!  All hail King Bard!”

 

After the formal ceremony, the heavy crown was removed (thank the Stars) and put away for safekeeping.  Thranduil opened a velvet-lined box, and presented him with another gift:  A simple gold circlet to wear for formal occasions where the huge, heavy crown wasn’t required.

“I did not give you a ‘Princely Crown,’ for you were never a Prince, and you will never be buried in it.  Still, I thought you should have something, and this seemed to suit you, _Meleth nîn_.”

“Thanks, love,” Bard kissed him, then held it up.  “It’s perfect.  I’m not one for all that frippery, and this suits me.”

He wore it during the Parade through the streets of Dale, then once they reached the Great Hall, everyone changed out of their armor, and celebrated with a Coronation Feast, where there was plenty of food, toasts, speeches, music and dancing.

 

“Oh, that’s better,” he sighed, later, when he removed the circlet.  “I didn’t get a headache like with the crown, but still—“

“Wait,” Thranduil grabbed his wrist then placed it back on his head.  “Leave it on,” he whispered, as he began to nuzzle Bard’s neck, “My King.”

Bard grinned, as he returned the Elf’s kisses. “On one condition, My King.”

“And what is that, _Meleth nîn?”_

“You keep yours on, too.”

 

When Bard took the circlet to Erebor for repairs, Dáin held up the dented gold band.  “What the feck did ye do te it?”

“Exactly,” Bard smirked.

Dáin looked at him for a second, exploded with laughter.

 

*******************

**City of Dale, 2nd of December 2943 T.A.**

One month had passed since the coronation, and three months had passed since the triplets had been born.

Of course, everyone in Dale was thrilled for their Healers, and when Thranduil and Bard held a ceremony in the Great Hall to declare their names, the place was crammed with well-wishers bearing gifts for Ermon & Elenaril’s tiny miracles:  Chewing beads, blankets, knitted hats, sweaters and leggings, rattles (including three silver ones from Erebor), and stuffed animals, and were all greatly appreciated.

The Elvenking’s predictions regarding their personalities seemed to ring true. _Almarë_ the bigger of the two _ellyth_ , had white-blond hair like her mother, grey eyes, and was indeed quiet and docile.  She was a bit shy of strangers, but eventually learned to be comfortable with Hannah, Daeron and Thranduil.  Bard tried to hold her, but her little mouth frowned and began to cry.

“Uh oh,” Bard winced. 

“Did you pinch her Bard?” Thranduil smirked, as he jostled _Nórimo_ in his arms.

“Ha, ha.” The Bowman rolled his eyes, and handed her back to Ermon.  “Don’t worry, darling,” he stroked the baby’s hair and chuckled.  “You’ll learn to love me.”

 _Nórimo_ , the _ellon_ , and the biggest, was the spit of his father (as Hannah liked to say), with lots of dark hair, and Ermon’s deep blue eyes.  He was a solid little Elfling, and seemed content no matter who was holding him.  He had a curious nature, and contemplated the world around him, as he toyed with his larger, pointed ears.   _Nórimo_ was especiallyenamored with Sigrid, and he grinned up at her every time she came to see them.

  _Calapîa_ the first born, was the littlest in size, but her personality took up the most room in their family, as if the Valar had crammed as much character into this little Elfling as possible!  She was their child of extremes: she was never happy, but jubilant, and if she was unhappy, her screams reverberated throughout their home.

Ermon’s leave was extended, at Thranduil’s insistence, until the end of the year.  No one could’ve predicted the amount of effort it took to manage three new babies, and the idea of leaving Elénaril to manage alone grated at him.  When the Elvenking told him, he pretended to reluctantly capitulate to his King’s wishes, then gratefully returned to his wife and children.

Thankfully, the Dale tradition to “look after their own” had been extended to their Elven friends, and the busy family had plenty of help with housework, laundry, hot meals and burping after feeding.  Every week or so, a small hoard of women descended on the couple’s house and pushed them out the door to enjoy some time as a couple.  Ermon and Elénaril protested at first, but soon learned to enjoy their long walks, and dinner at either Rod’s Long Lake Tavern, or Adila’s new Coffee Cafe..

 

Since he returned to Dale, Daeron worked long hours at the Healing House, sparred with his cousin, courted his beautiful Rhian and delighted in Darryn, who seemed to be doing and saying something new every day. 

He kept his promise to Ben and did not speak of marriage, but he grew uneasy.  As much as he loved Rhian, and as much as he knew she loved him, should she not be made to understand all that a marriage to an Elf would entail, before she became betrothed?  He considered talking to Thranduil about it, but in the end decided to speak to one Rhian trusted most in this world.

He went to Hannah’s house several weeks before Yule and knocked.  “Hello, pet.” She kissed his cheek, let him in, and sat him down at her kitchen table, with a plate of cookies and a freshly-brewed pot of tea.  “Now, what is it you need to talk to me about?”

He blew out a breath and began.  “I have found joy with Rhian, and I want her to be my wife, but I do not want to ask her until she understands what it means to marry someone like me; especially after Eärendil’s Blessing.”

“I’ve heard your folk talk about that, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Things have changed for Elves, Hannah, and it is good news!  There used to be a great deal of difficulties if an Elf entered into a ‘mixed marriage,’ but the Valar have petitioned Eru to bless us with a different fate, both for the Elf and for the child of Man.  You understand what and Elf considers to be the actual marriage?”

“I know about that part, but if Lord Bard and Lord Thranduil can marry without a problem, I don’t see why you’re so concerned.”

“Ah, but you see, an exception was made for them, according to Mithrandir.  Yes, Bard will not die, unless he is killed, but he will not be with his children; he will sail to Valinor with Lord Thranduil.  The Valar have granted him a special place on the ships.  That was established before their own marriage, and Lord Bard could make  the choice freely to benefit both his people and the Elves, for otherwise, Thranduil would leave his Kingdom unprotected.”

“And you say this Blessing changed things for everyone else?”

“Yes.  Lord Elrond, who is the son of Eärendil, send King Thranduil a long missive with the details concerning the blessing.”

“Which are what, exactly?” Hannah was puzzled.

“Much is given in detail, but much is still not quite known.  Should Rhian marry me, she would gain a much longer life, longer than several generations of Men, as would the children of our union, yet their Ultimate Fate would be the same.  We would all be together, but not in Valinor.  We would be with your kind.”

”But wouldn’t you miss out on being with your people?”

”I...  have given this a great deal of thought, _Mellon,_ and I want her.  I know there will be bitterness, no matter what happens, but she is the One, I have no doubt.”

“Well, I don’t see what the problem with be with that, Daeron.  It sounds like Rhian is gaining a lot.  Will she inherit extra abilities, like Lord Bard has?”

“That is one of the things I do not know.” Daeron looked at her nervously.  “What I also do not know, is if I would lose some of my gifts.”

“You mean…” Hannah realized what he was talking about.  “Oh, my boy…” she put her hand over her mouth and looked stricken, then asked.  “And how do _you_ feel about it?”

“Hannah, I have spent over 1,800 years enjoying my gifts while I was alone.  Then there was Sellwen, and I loved her, but she was taken from me before I had a chance to consider anything.  Since then, I have worked hard, but I’ve been lonely.  I want a life with Rhian, however much or how little the Valar will grant me.  If I had any doubts, I would not have asked Ben for permission to court her, and it is only my promise to not speak before Yule that I have refrained from telling her this.   I want to propose, but it is unfair to ask her until she knows everything, and she understands what I really want!”

He looked down and ran his hands over the rim of his cup.  “If I am completely honest, I am afraid to tell her myself, because if she decides she cannot accept, I…”  He gave her a pleading look.  “Please; I am asking you as a friend; could speak to her?  Take her to see Elénaril, and the two of you can help her understand; she deserves that.”

“But what if you lose your gifts?”

“Then I will continue to serve, in a lesser capacity.  I am a skilled soldier, and will have the same capabilities as a Healer as you, so that would not be a complete tragedy.  I am ready for such a consequence, Hannah; I love Rhian.

“And what if Rhian can’t allow you to make that sacrifice?”

Daeron swallowed, and tried to speak, but couldn’t. 

“Oh, love…”  Hannah took his hand and squeezed.  “You’d leave Middle Earth, wouldn’t you?”

“I would have to, I think.  But you cannot tell Rhian that; she must be able to accept or deny me freely!  I will not accept her hand out of guilt or obligation, can you understand?”

“Well, I’m glad you spoke to me; I’ll make sure she knows how much you truly love her, then we’ll hope for the best, yeah?”

 

***************

**The Eve of Turuhalmë, 27th of December 2943 T.A.**

Tomorrow night, there would be the gathering in the Great Hall for the Tale-Telling, but tonight was a night for family.  Two days earlier, Indis and Ómar, along with Idril and Adamar came to Dale for the festivities.

On this night, they were dressed up and heading to Lord Ben’s house, for a party.  Hannah, her son Jon and his wife Darla were going to be there, along with their two children, as well as some other important guests.

“Joyous Yule!” Rhian greeted them at the door with a smile, looking lovely in a dark dress and small white flowers in her hair.  “Let me get your coats.  Almost everyone is here!”

Darryn looked cute in his little outfit, but he had recently learned how to undress himself, so it was anyone’s guess how long it would stay on, despite the cold weather. 

Idril and Indis gathered Rhian and hugged her, then swept her, Hannah and Darla off to her bedroom, after handing Darryn over to Daeron.

The Men were gathered in the sitting room, with glasses of wine and cookies for the children, when another knock was heard. 

“Oops!  That’ll be them!  Ben, who was wearing the same outfit from the Coronation, quickly entered the front Hall, to find the Kings and their extended family.

“Come in, My Lords and Ladies! Come in!”

“Stop that, you,” Hilda kissed him.  “No titles tonight, yeah?”

“Well, I’ll need it later,” Bard joked, “but she’s right.  Where are your ladies?”

“Chirping and clucking in Rhian’s room.” He said smiled at Hilda, Tauriel, Sigrid and Tilda. “Go on.”

 

There was greenery and candles lit everywhere, and the table was laden with food, ale and wine, all waiting for the festivities to begin.  A few minutes later, the Men and Ellyn took their places before the blazing fireplace, with Darryn on Daeron’s hip.

Ben and Percy stood together in front of Bard and Thranduil, and looked expectantly toward the back hallway.

Tilda came out, grinning wildly with a little wreath of holly and red berries in her hair, and carrying a small bouquet of greenery.  One by one, the rest of the females stepped forth all bearing the same ornaments and carrying winter flowers.

Then Hannah, looking lovely in a new gown with her hair done up, and wearing a lovely tiara of gold and diamonds (a gift from Ben) stepped into the room, on her son’s arm.

“Hello, you.”  Ben whispered, when she reached his side.

“Hello, you,” Hannah smiled, then handed her flowers to Darla.  Then her son Jon kissed her cheek, and placed her hand in Ben’s.

Everyone smiled and sniffed, as Bard married them in a simple, but heartfelt ceremony, which had everyone in tears, and by the time he told the groom to kiss the bride, most of them were grabbing for their handkerchiefs.  Thranduil was handing out several spares he had brought, before he wiped his own eyes.

During the ceremony, the baby had begun to fuss to be let down, so Daeron placed him on the floor where he seemed to sit quietly with his blankie.  He so caught up with the wedding, that he hadn’t noticed that Darryn quickly managed to remove all his clothing, and had just undone his nappy.  He was standing completely naked and pleased with himself, when Rhian noticed him, and gasped in horror and embarrassment at the sight.  

“Daeron!” she scolded. “How could you not notice he was doing that!”

“Well, he constantly squirms, and…”  the poor Elf sputtered, and knelt down to try and put his tunic back on, but the baby was too fast for him and took off in a dead run around the room.

“I’m so sorry, Da!  Oh, you’re wedding’s all ruined!”  she looked apologetically at Ben, but realized he and Hannah were helpless with laughter, as was just about everyone else in the room. 

She sighed, rolled her eyes and Daeron helped her get him re-dressed.  “From now on, young man. I’m putting double-knots on everything.”  She tried to scowl at her Elf, then she grinned and kissed him, instead.  

“If you two can manage to keep your son’s clothes on, it’s your turn.” Bard waved the three of them over.  “Come on.”

Daeron picked the baby back up and searched her face.  “Are you certain, Rhian?

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my whole life,” She smiled up at him.  “Let’s do this.”

The Elf shifted Darryn to his other hip, put his arm around her shoulders, and they stepped before King Thranduil.  Ben and Hannah’s family stood by Rhian, and took the baby, while Turamarth, and both sets of parents supported Daeron.

Thranduil switched places with Bard, and began:  “It seems only fitting that on this night when two families become one, that we celebrate the intention of another couple, who wish to share their lives together.  It is customary among both our races that a formal betrothal takes place between two people who wish to declare their love and their intention to marry.”

He smiled down at the couple, then explained to the Men and Women in the room, “Part of the tradition of my people is for a couple in love to have a formal betrothal  ceremony, with the silver rings, which will be exchanged for golden ones, at the Wedding Feast.  In this instance, Daeron’s parents have asked that their own betrothal rings be used for this purpose, as a visible sign of their blessing on this union.”

Rhian knew nothing of this, and was deeply moved, as Idril stepped forward, kissed the girl on both cheeks, and hugged her.  “You mean, you don’t mind at all?” she asked the Elf.  “I mean…”

 Idril cupped her cheek.  “How could we mind, when you have made our son so happy?”

“He has made me happy, too.” She sniffed. “I love him, with all my heart.”

“I know you do.”  She kissed Rhian’s forehead and handed her one of the silver rings.  “This is for you to give to Daeron.”

Adamar put his arm around Daeron’s shoulder, and handed him the ring he had given his mother thousands of years ago.  “Your mother and I love you very much, _Ion nîn_.”

 _“Ci vilui, Ada,”_ he threw his arms around his father and held him tight.  _“Ant gîn vîr vin faer nîn, n'uir.”_

Ben stepped forward and clasped arms with Adamar and kissed Idril’s cheek.  “This is a lovely thing you’re doing for these kids.” He cleared his throat and his voice was rough.  “It means a lot.”

“I agree,” Thranduil smiled.  “Shall we proceed?  Now, Rhian, take Daeron’s hand…”

And so, in this beautifully decorated room, in this house, on this evening with the moon shining bright outside, not only did Hannah marry the love of her life, but Daeron became officially betrothed to his. 

She slipped the silver ring on to his left forefinger, and in a soft, but sure voice, repeated the words in both Westron and Sindarin, promising to marry him, and to share her life with him.  Daeron he took her hand and kissed it, then slipped the ring on her finger. 

 _“Gi melin,_ _Hind Calen_ ,” he whispered.   

She took his face in her hands and whispered back softly.  “I love you, whatever that means to us, wherever it will take us, we will face it together.  Now kiss me,” she grinned, “before someone thinks you’ve changed your mind.”

“I would never, _ever_ do that.” Daeron then swept her in his arms, bent her backwards and let her and everyone else in the room know the depth of his feelings.  He barely heard the room burst into applause.

“Now, then,” Ben laughed as he shook his intended-son-in-law’s hand and shook it.  

“Let’s have a party!” Jon called out, with his arm around Darla’s waist.

“Oh, good,” Jon’s son groaned softly.  “I’m _starving!”_

The celebration went on late into the night.  It was the eve of the Tale-Telling, so Thranduil sat down with all the children, and told them several stories of past ages, and soon all the adults in the room were caught up in it.

Hannah sat on the arm of Ben’s chair, and listened with a smile.  Tonight, they would go to Hannah’s house, then tomorrow, they would enjoy a honeymoon in the King’s private Lodge, which had already been stocked with food and wood for the fire and the bed had been made up with extra quilts.  The Elves, who loved romance had even sprinkled some fragrant flower petals on the bed.

Rhian sat next to Daeron on the couch, with her head on his shoulder, as they listened to the Elvenking, and everyone noticed how their eyes were shining when they looked at each other.

* * *

Turamarth sat with his family, and felt incredibly blessed.  So many of his friends had lost their parents to the dangers of the forest, or Orcs, or by sailing to the West to cope with their grief, yet here he was, surrounded by those he’d always loved, and now his dearer-than-brother had finally found happiness!   He was glad the four parents were supportive of Daeron’s choice, but he really wasn’t surprised.  All they ever wanted was for their children to know the same happiness they were blessed with.

Then Tur realized something else, and his chest tightened.

All his life, he’d supported Daeron, helped him cope with the mechanics of daily life, so he could use his gifts the Valar had blessed him with.  And regardless of whether he would lose them or keep them after he and Rhian married…

…that marriage meant that Turamarth wouldn’t be needed anymore.  He was about to be replaced, albeit in a joyous way, but still. 

But still.

And so, in this beautifully decorated room, in this house, on this evening, Turamarth, son of Ómar, looked over at the two happy couples, and for the first time in his life, felt incredibly alone.  His throat tightened, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

He looked back up  noticed his cousin looking at him with concern, so he blinked back his tears, plastered a huge smile on his face, and held up his glass of wine. 

_“Geilu, Gwador nîn!”_

He knew Daeron wasn’t fooled, but he resolved to remain silent, no matter how many times his cousin prodded him.  This would be one of his gifts to Daeron; to never let the emptiness show.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 2 nd of May 2944 T.A.**

It had been five months since the wedding and the betrothal, and much had happened, in Dale.

Perhaps the most significant for the Royal Family was their removal from the Corridor behind the Great Hall to their new rooms in the second floor of the Castle! 

Tilda had squealed with delight at her very own room, with all-new furniture, and immediately began to jump on her new bed.  Hilda tried to stop her, but _Ada_ just laughed, and joined her, as Bard looked on with a knowing smile. 1

The King of Dale was also thankful that their brand-new furniture would be safe from her little dog, Meril.  She had _finally_ stopped chewing everything in sight!  Thranduil had found a way to use Elven magic to put a stop to it, after he spent a harrowing afternoon chasing in the Great Hall with poor Charlotte in her mouth, as she dodged between the chairs and table legs fast as lightening. It took him and three guards to finally catch her, and after a stubborn game of tug-of-war, the Elvenking rushed the poor doll to Glélindë for emergency repairs, begging her to finish before Tilda got home from school.

On moving day, when the Corridor was finally cleared of their belongings, Thranduil walked through the empty rooms, and smiled as echoes and visions of their life here filled his memory.

He had learned how to be a good husband and loving parent in these rooms.  He had learned how to be part of a large family, how to endure the ups and downs and the joys and heartaches.  He learned to love the noise, and the exuberance, and the arguments, and the laughter.  He recalled the weeks he and Bard had been bedridden, as they both recovered from serious injuries, and as much as they hated it, he learned all about his new husband, and loved Bard all the more for it.

 “There you are.” Bard came toward him.  “What’s wrong, love?” 

“I do not know.” He sighed sadly.  “I feel...  reluctant to leave, Bard.  I did not realize how much I will miss this.”

”Me, too.” Bard looked around. “We became a good family, here.”

Thranduil looked into his forest-green eyes with worry.  “I am afraid our family will change, _Meleth nîn_.”

“Nothing stays the same, love; you know that.”  He kissed Thranduil’s hand. “We built something special in this Corridor, and I won’t let us lose it.  I promise.”

The Elvenking put a brave smile on his face.  “We will both make sure.”

 

***************

**10 th of May 2944 T.A.**

Daeron wiped his hands with a clean towel, as he smiled down at his last patient of the day: a small girl who had been seen for a scraped elbow from the playground.

“What do you say, love?” the mother prodded.

“Thank you,” the child smiled shyly. 

Daeron reached down at booped her nose.  “You are most welcome, _hênig_.  And next time, try to hang on tight when you want to swing so high, yes?”

“I will.”

He smiled as he watched them go, then saw Hannah come out of the back rooms, where she was checking on a few of her patients.

“Good afternoon, Lady Hannah.” He teased.

“Oh, stop it, you,” she smacked his arm.  “I’m still just Hannah, and in three days, I’ll be your mother-in-law!”

In addition to the Castle, Ben had completed the work on his own house, and upstairs was finished and ready to accommodate the new family.  There had never been any question of Daeron taking Rhian to live somewhere else; she loved her home and her garden, and they both knew Ben couldn’t bear to be parted from his daughter and grandson. 

He and Hannah were installed downstairs, and Rhian’s old room was turned into an office, but the nursery remained.  It was easier for Grandad and Granny when they babysat Darryn.  

Rhian and Daeron would have the run of the rooms on the second floor, which contained a large bedroom, plus four other rooms and a water closet, to accommodate them and future grandchildren (a subject which Ben frequently voiced his encouragement). Rhian was a natural hostess, and would remain as such, when Ben would be called upon to entertain important guests.  That was a great relief to her new mother; Hannah would much rather stick to her own job and continue to help bring Dale’s new citizens into the world.

 

The doors of the Healing Hall opened to admit Turamarth, who apparently was an Elf on a Mission.

He pointed at his cousin. “  _Gwador_ , you and I are about to partake in a ritual Men call a “Stag Night,” in which we are obligated to revel in your last moments of unmarried life, and, to quote Lord Percy, ‘drink ourselves stupid.’”

“But why do I want to do this?” Daeron’s eyes widened. 

“I do not know, but Percy, Bard and Alun have it all worked out.  King Thranduil is coming, as well as the Dwarves and King Dáin.”

“Wh…  Tur, I do not know if I like the sound of this…”

“Too late!”  His cousin grinned with glee, “Lord Bard has rented the Long Lake Inn for the evening, and the Lord and Lady sent you a surprise gift, which is waiting for you there.”

“But—”

Ivran and Ruvyn came in just then, and at Tur’s behest they each took an arm and lifted Daeron off the floor to drag him out.  The entire City of Dale must have known what was going on, because all the men were whooping and laughing and catcalling to him, as he was carried to the Inn. Turamarth opened the doors, and the Elf’s eyes widened; the big room packed with people, tables laden with food, and several of the Dwarves brought instruments.  

”Daeron, lad!”

“There he is!”

“The Elf of the hour!”

“’Bout bloody time ye go’ ‘ere laddie!”

“Where’s the booze?”

Daeron just stood and stared at the crowd with his eyes bugging out of his head.  “This is...unexpected.”

Then the crowd parted, to reveal a small group of tall, blonde Elves, facing the bar, alongside a dark-haired companion. 

Then they turned and smiled.

“ _A!”_ Daeron gasped, _“Suilad, Mellyth nîn!”_ He ran across the room and embraced Haldir.  “You came!  And Orophin!  Orlin and Penlod; you are all here! I cannot believe it! How can this be?” He threw his arms around Haldir again, then hugged the rest of his friends. 

“Of course, we came, _Mellon_.  The Lord and Lady arranged things with your Kings, after meeting your beautiful bride.”

“You’ve met Rhian?”

“It was she who arranged housing in the Castle for us.” Haldir smiled at his friend. “She is truly everything you said she was, Daeron.”

“She is lovely, _Mellon_ ,” Penlod agreed.  “We have also met her little son, and he is enchanting.  We are happy for you.”

“I hope you do not mind,” Orlin said, but I brought my sister with me.” And put his arm around a blonde _Elleth’s_ shoulders.

“Of course not!” he reached over to take Evranin’s hand and kiss her cheek.  “It is good to see you again; how do you like Dale, so far?”

“We have only just arrived and have gotten settled in our guest suites,” she said. “In fact, I am going to leave you to your merriment; Lady Rhian has invited me to something called a “Hen party,” although I am not sure what that will be.”

Probably a female version of this nonsense,” Daeron rolled his eyes.  “Do you need someone to escort you?”

“No thank you, Evranin smiled.  “Lady Tauriel is on her way to pick me up, and we are going to the Castle.” She looked toward to door to see who came in.  “Ah!  I believe my escort has arrived.”

Just then, the red-haired Elf entered with a smile and waved at all the shouted greetings. 

“You must be Evranin!  I am Tauriel, and pleased to meet you,” she bowed her head and saluted, then grabbed her hand.  “I have come to rescue you from this rabble!  Enjoy yourselves, everyone!”

And they did.  Daeron had no idea how much he drank or how long the party lasted, but he had a _wonderful_ time!  He was inundated with free marital advice, which made him blush to the roots of his hair.  Then Bard stood on one of the tables and shared a few lewd jokes, as Thranduil rolled his eyes and laughed, as he enjoyed the wine Haldir had brought with him.

But the highlight of the entire night was Ori!  While normally shy and quiet, this young Dwarf’s intoxicated persona was the polar opposite.  To his brother Dori’s absolute horror, Ori sang some bawdy songs that even made Dwalin blush.  He also won the belching contest, although Judd, Farmer Jarvis’ boy came close.

 

 _“Gwador?_ Are you dead?”

 _Ai, gorgor…_ Daeron woke up, but only because Turamarth stood over his bed and lifted one of his eyelids. “How did I get home?”

“I do not remember,” Tur moaned pitifully, “but if you are dead, Rhian will kill me.”

“I am not dead, although I wish I was.  Close the curtains!”

“They are closed.”

“Then why does the light hurt my eyes?   And why do you shout?”

“You and I drank too much of that accursed wine Haldir and Orophin brought with them.  And I am _whispering,_ _Gwador_.”

“Uuuuuugh....  I should have known better, when Haldir passed it around...”. Daeron opened one eye slightly, and looked his cousin, who was pale, wobbly, and a bit green.  One hand was clutching his head and the other arm was around his stomach.

“I am sick from the drink,” he whined, “I need you to heal me.  I cannot *belch* do it myself.”

 _“Penig ind?”_ Daeron groaned and put the pillow over his eyes.  “What time is it?”

“I do not know.  For some reason, the clock does not make sense.”

There was a knock at their door.  

 _“Raich!” Tur_  moaned and flopped on the bed beside him.  “I cannot do it.   I will not make it to the door.   _Gin_ _iallon_...

“I hate you, you know that.”

The knocking was louder.

“Fine…”  Daeron forced himself to stand, then leaned heavily on the walls with his eyes closed and felt his way to the sitting room.

“Coming,” he whispered loudly.  “Who is it?”

“It is your King, Daeron.  I am here with your mother.”

“ _Ai!  Naneth nin?_ _”_

He managed to unlock the door, and squinted in the light to find Thranduil standing there grinning.  And Idril was nowhere in sight.

“Forgive me,” the Elvenking laughed.  “I could not resist.”

 

For almost two thousand years, Daeron had served Thranduil to the very best of his ability, and to stand there and make light of his misery was just plain cruel.

Daeron opened his mouth to tell him just that…

…but threw up all over him, instead.

 

 

 

**ELVEN TRANSLATIONS:**

_Ci vilui, Ada_ – Thank you, Dad

 _Ant gîn vîr vin faer nîn, n'uir. –_ I shall treasure your gift in my heart, always.

 _Ellyth_ – Elven females (pl.)

 _Ellyn_ – Elven males (pl.)

 _Geilu, Gwador nîn!_ – Blessings, my Sworn-brother!

 _A!_ _Suilad, Mellyth nîn! –_ Oh! Hello, my friends!

 _Penig_ _ind? -_  Are you insane?

 _Gin_   _allon -_ I’m begging you.

 _Ai!  Naneth nin?_ – Eek!  My mother?”

 

**NOTES:**

[1] From “What Makes a King,” CH 22


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   Rhian has a blast at her Hen Party, but her poor fiancée will need some time to recover.    And we have a wedding! 
> 
> …followed by a wedding night, in which both Rhian and Daeron receive a wonderful gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it, folks! Admittedly this was a long one, beset by several side plots, but you've been patient, and at last, our couple finally gets together!
> 
> Watch this space in the next day or so, when I begin another story, and I suggest subscribing to either my username or the "Two Thrones" series so you don't miss any of the fluffy one-shots I might throw in here and there...
> 
> For those of you who have wondered what is going on with Legolas, I am happy to announce the title of Part IV of the "Two Thrones" series: "Legolas, _Ion Nîn",_ in which we check in on our Elven Prince and see his side of things. 
> 
> But don't worry; we'll still keep up with our Kings, and all the goings on in the North! 
> 
> I love you all for reading this. It has meant the world to me!

 

“The thrill of falling in love is often the thrill of being loved; the thrill of marriage is the thrill of loving someone for the rest of your life. Each day - and year - that passes is a triumph of this act of loving.”

** ― Susan Waggoner,  I Do! I Do! **

 

 

**City of Dale, 10 th of May 2944 T.A.**

Bain had seen Da and _Ada_ leave the Castle earlier that evening, which was nothing new, but when hordes of females and giggling little girls descended upon his home, Bain’s eyes widened, and he fled. 

He went to find Rhys, who was also at loose ends, so the two of them headed over to Bowen’s house.   Daffyd and Powell were off with their wagon, and Anna was with the rest of the women, so Bowen was babysitting.  Once Maddox and Owena had been put to bed, the boys spent the evening whittling, or taking turns playing Stratagem. 

Bowen had just taken Rhys’ knight, when he shook his head. “I don’t get it.  I mean, I know what the men are doing at the Inn, but what do girls do, when they get together?”

Rhys made a derisive noise and gave the other boys his expert opinion on the matter. “What else?  Sit around with their knitting, and talk about recipes.  Or they do their sewing. You know, junk like that.”

 

***************

One of the large receiving rooms at the Castle had been pressed into service to accommodate all the Women, _Ellyth_ and Dwarrows, who piled in to help their friend Rhian celebrate her last hours as a single woman.

Those who thought these ladies were having a sedate, dignified and demur affair, would’ve turned around and headed for the hills (or at least to the pub, to join the others).

Tilda couldn’t stay for the entire party, but while she and her friends were in attendance, all was proper, to respect their young sensibilities.  Then, at nine o’clock sharp, Galion came to collect them, because their _Tithen Pen_ was going to have a sleepover in her room!

Once the youngsters were gone, things got a bit … _earthier._

There was the traditional drinking game, when married women of the group took turns raising their glasses to offer their wisdom regarding love, marriage, and successful wedding nights.

“Do it for the Northern Kingdoms, Rhian.”  Hilda deadpanned. “Just lie back, and think of Dale,” and this tidbit which was met with catcalls and giggles.

Hannah was next.  “Never go to bed angry,” she winked. “Stay up and fight all night!”

“If you are concerned whether Daeron is well-endowed,” Elénaril lifted her goblet, “as his personal Healer, I can promise you will be pleasantly surprised.” She wiggled her eyebrows, “ _Very_ pleasantly surprised!” Then she winked.  “But if you saw my husband, you’d be jealous!”  A general “oooooh!” swept through the room, Rhian blushed a deep crimson, and took another drink.

Catrina, the Innkeeper’s wife, lifted her cup.  “You want to know how I get Rod to do something? I tell him he’s too old for it!”

Seren was next.  “You know you’re married when you don’t mind it when he farts in bed!” 

“If you get into a fight, feed him.” Darla offered. “He can’t argue, when he’s busy stuffing his face!”

Queen Dilna had an offering of her own:  “May your wedding night be like a kitchen table, all legs and no drawers!”

When Enid, the baker’s mother-in-law stepped up, no one expected the graceful, white-haired matron to say, “A good wife is a ‘lady’ in the kitchen, and a ‘whore’ in the bedroom!”

The mother of the groom-to-be took her turn.  “All jokes aside, marriage does not require a great deal of compromise, but a good and loving marriage _does._   Talk to each other, _Iellig_ , respect each other, but most of all delight in all the good qualities you find in each other.  If you do that, love will remain.”

“Awww…” Everyone smiled, as Rhian got up and kissed her cheek, amidst a round of applause.

Indis, Aunt of the groom (and Idril’s identical twin sister), took her turn.  “I second everything my sister said, with just one addition.” Her grin was wicked.  “The tips of an Elf’s ears are very sensitive!”  Rhian covered her mouth and giggled, as she continued, in a loud whisper,  “Try sucking on them - it will drive him insane!”   Everyone gasped and roared, as the bride-to-be hid her face in her hands.

By the time the ladies were finished bestowing their advice on the new bride, Rhian’s sides hurt from laughing, and it was time for gifts, of which there were many:   Beautiful embroidered linens from the Elves, yards of sumptuous fabric from Lynne and Mona, some silver candlesticks, and a lovely brush and comb set.   The Queen under the Mountain gave her a lovely pair of earrings, and Hilda and Hannah presented her with some lovely embroidered nightgowns.  There was one particular one earmarked for her wedding night, and Rhian held up the white, sheer gown, with thin straps, everyone “oohed and aahed.” 

“It’s so beautiful…”  She gasped, as she examined the tiny, hand-embroidered flowers along the neckline.  “It’s so delicate, I’d be afraid to wear it.”

Hilda smiled and winked.  “You won’t be wearing it; not for long anyway!” 

 

***************

 

**11 th of May; 2944 T.A.**

The Kings staggered home during the early hours, leaning heavily on each other, and aided by their guards.  The Elvenking had enjoyed his fair share of wine, but not much more than his normal limit, so he didn’t anticipate any problems.  

Except the wine wasn’t his normal Dorwinian; it was the stuff Haldir brought _._ Thranduil thought it was some of the best wine he’d ever tasted, and lavished praise on it at the beginning of the evening, and by the end of the night, he acclaims were long-winded and loquacious.

 “I… think…” Bard belched loudly. “I’m drunk.”

“I _know_ you are drunk.” Thranduil grinned as he staggered, just a little. 

“What ‘bout you?  You’re not exactly walking a shtraight line, yourshelff.” Bard looked around.  “Are we goin’ the right way?”

“I do not know.  Ivran and Ruvyn are leading us…” he looked to the Guard on his right.  “Where is the Castle?”

“Straight ahead, My Lord.” Ivran pointed.  “Do you not see the lamps?”

“Oh…” Thranduil squinted.  “Have they been there the entire time?”

“They have, My Lord.”

“Can’t see ‘em.”  Bard mumbled.

“It helps if you open your eyes, _Meleth nîn_.”

“Can’t.  It shpins when I do that…  Ooops!” the Bowman staggered to his left, but Ruvyn caught him and straightened him up.

“Thanksch.”

“You are welcome, My Lord.” The Guard smiled.

Bard stopped.  “Oh shit… Percy?  Where the fuck’s Perssey?  Hilda’ll kill me if we loscht him…”

“Lord Percy passed out, My Lord.  He was taken home in a wagon, along with several others.”

“Who did that?”

“Master Roderic arranged it ahead of time.  Daffyd and Powell have made three trips so far.”

“Awww….” Bard smiled. “Rod’s  a good egg, he is.”

“Do not speak of eggs, Bard!”  Thranduil looked down and was not _at all_ happy to see the cobblestone streets undulate in such a fashion.  Was this normal?  He closed his eyes and opened them again, and still the ground at his feet seemed to ebb and flow, like waves.

This could not be good.

“Lieutenant?”

“Yes, My Lord?”

 “I…  believe I need some assistance.”  

“I am already supporting you, Lord Thranduil.”

“Yes, I see that.” He whispered roughly.  “And I thank you.   However—“

And then, the tall, graceful Elvenking suddenly pitched forward and fell flat on his face.

 

***************

 

“The King has passed out cold!”  Ivran picked the Thranduil up off the street and dragged him over to the sidewalk. 

“Surely not!” Ruvyn gasped, as he struggled to keep Bard upright. “He is Sindar; he is just a bit dizzy…”  Then the Guard looked closer. _“Ai, puith!_   The King has passed out, Ivran!”

“Nothing gets past _you_ , does it?”  Ivran rolled his eyes.  “ _Pen-channas!”_

 _“A! I naneth gîn thia sui orch!”_  Ruvyn scowled. 

“You will  _not_ insult my mother, _Torog!”_  He gave Ruvyn a dirty look.  

“What are we supposed to do now?”

“Drag Lord Bard over here, and set him down next to the King.” Ivran was trying to prop Thranduil against the wall of a building, but the Elvenking kept listing hard to the left. 

“Remind me never to drink _anything_ from Lothlórien; what was in that wine?”  Ruvyn groaned, as he wrestled the King of Dale over to the building. “ _Ai! He is heavy!”_ Once Bard was seated beside him, they propped the Kings against each other.  Then they shook their heads at the sight. Bard was flopped against Thranduil like a rag doll, and the mighty Warrior-King had his head against the wall with his eyes closed, mouth open, and drooling out of the corner of his mouth.

"Not a word of this to anyone," Ivran warned.

"I would _never_ do that!"  Ruvyn shrugged.  "Besides, who would believe us?"

“Where’m I?” Bard mumbled.

“You are helping your husband remain upright,” Ivran said gently.  “Now you must sit very still, so he does not fall, yes?”

“’mkay.” Bard rested his head back, closed his eyes, and started to snore.

“I will wait here, and watch them, while you go find the wagon.”  Ivran said.  “Hurry!”

Ruvyn went and flagged Daffyd down, then the Kings were poured into the back, joining several others.  They were met at the steps of the Castle, by Dior and Nualë, Who helped get them up the steps and to their bedchamber, where they met a flabbergasted Elven Aide, with his hands on his hips.

”Lord Thranduil is out cold!” He gasped in horror.

Ivran gave a Ruvyn a warning glance out of the corner of his eye.  “It would seem so, My Lord.” He hauled Thranduil’s dead weight to their bedchamber and onto the bed.  “Put Lord Bard there, Ruvyn.”

Galion followed them in, removed their boots and their belts, and threw a blanket over them.

“What in the _world_ were they drinking?” The Aide demanded.

“Apparently it was that vintage the Marchwarden brought from his personal cellars.”

Galion scowled. “That stuff could fell a Mumakil.  What were they thinking?”

Ruvyn shrugged.  “Beware of Galadhrim bearing gifts.”

Ivran gave his friend a scathing look.  _“Penig ind?”_

 _“Ai…”_ Galion rolled his eyes, shook his head, then went back to bed.

 

***************

 

Bless Galion for having a Healer on hand first thing in the morning, or the Elvenking would not have left his bed.  Perhaps forever.

Still, all he and Bard could manage for breakfast was weak mint tea and dry toast, and they nibbled that with as little noise as possible.

“Where are the children?” Bard whispered to Galion.

“Sleeping.  Everyone had a late night, and I do not expect them to wake for another hour or so.

“Not even Hilda?”  Thranduil was amazed.  She had always been an early riser.

 _“Especially_ not Hilda.” Galion smiled.

 

Bard decided to sit quietly and read until everyone got up, while Thranduil went to check on the prospective groom, and see if he could be of any aid. 

“What happened here?” he asked as he saw the staff cleaning up all the debris.  “It looks like we were attacked by Wargs!”

“The ladies had a very good time, My Lord,” Greta curtsied with a smile.

 

Admittedly, he didn’t much care for the bright, late-morning sun, as he walked through Dale, but he took some comfort in seeing numerous people who were also suffering.  There was a bit of a crowd outside the Healing House, hoping for some relief.  He sympathized, and decided not to ask Haldir what was in that wine, because he would never drink anything made in Lothlórien again.

He went to Daeron’s and Tur’s apartment and knocked, then chuckled when he heard the miserable moans come from inside.  It might be fun to play a bit of a prank on the groom-to-be.

A few minutes later, when Daeron opened the door, he decided it was not.

 

***************

 

**City of Dale, 13 th of May; 2944 T.A.**

Turamarth peeked through the doors of the anteroom and saw afternoon sun through the tall, stained-glass windows, reflecting their colors on the guests seated in the Ball Room of the Castle. 

“Is everyone here?” Daeron paced nervously, and checked his armor for what must have been the twentieth time.

“Stop fidgeting, _Gwador_ ; you look perfect.” 

“How are my braids in the back?”

Tur gritted his teeth.  “They are also perfect, since I did them myself.”

Daeron looked in the mirror and patted along the back of his head.  “Are you sure?” 

“If you do not stop, I will cut them off...”

“You would not!”

“No.  I would not.” He said with a smile.  “Not today.”

Daeron turned toward him, and they gave each other a long, meaningful look.  “I know things will be different, Tur.  I am happy to be marrying Rhian, but part of me feels… like I am sacrificing you, and our parents, and…” he swallowed.

“You must follow your heart, _Gwador_.” The Guard put his hand on Daeron’s shoulder.  “Do not make it sound like you are throwing me away, because I am not going _anywhere._   I am not losing you; I am _gaining_ thousands of free, home-cooked meals at your wife’s table.  I am also gaining a nephew, and I plan to spoil him terribly.  I will fill him up with sweets and teach him how to curse and tell filthy jokes in Sindarin—"

“Turamarth!”

“…and I will be doing the same for all the rest of your children.” He grinned.  “You will be sick of the sight of me.”

Daeron embraced him.  “But it will not be the same.” He said quietly. 

“No,” Turamarth closed his eyes and swallowed, “it will not be the same...”

Daeron’s voice was raspy.  “ _Ci vellon nîn n'uir,_ _Gwador_.”

“As are you, _Mellon_ _nîn_.”  Tur admitted.  They tightened their hug, then he patted Daeron’s shoulder.  “No tears.  This is a happy day.”

There was a soft knock, and Galion stuck his head in.  “It is time.”

“Thank you.” Turamarth nodded, then gave his cousin an encouraging smile.  “Your life is waiting, Daeron.”

The rest of the Royal Guards were lined up and looking every bit as resplendent as they did at the Coronation.  At the front, King Bard was wearing his formal uniform, with his blue-and-crimson cape, with his circlet upon his brow.  Thranduil was stunning in his burgundy robes, and his sapphire-and-diamond crown.

Tur and the groom went to stand before the Kings.  “My Lords,” they saluted.

“Are you ready?” Bard smiled.

Daeron looked at Turamarth, who gave him an encouraging nod. 

“Yes, My Lord.”

Thranduil waved his hand, and the sound of Elven harps filled the air.  The doors opened, and Indis and Ómar gracefully entered, followed by Idril and Adamar.  They kissed their son and nephew, and took their places to the right, followed by Lady Hannah who was escorted by Prince Bain, and went to the left. 

The bridesmaids had flowers in their hair, and wore dresses of light green.  Lady Tauriel was first, then Princess Sigrid and both were beaming as they carried long bouquets of pink lilies and purple Irises.  Princess Tilda was the flower girl, of course, and this time she had no trouble coordinating herself.  Everyone smiled as she glided gracefully down the aisle and tossed the flower petals with ease. 

Turamarth quickly glanced over at the Kings, who both looked misty-eyed at their daughters and son, but it was a shining moment for them to see their youngest so healthy, thanks to Daeron and Galadriel. 

Then music changed, and the assemblage stood and waited for the entrance of the bride. 

“Here she comes, _Gwador_.” Tur whispered with a smile.

Daeron was full of nerves, then his breath caught, and his mouth dropped open.

Lord Ben, City Planner of Dale, entered with his daughter on one arm, and his grandson balanced on his other hip.   His smile was shaky, and he didn’t look like he was ready to lose them, but as he escorted them toward his new son-in-law, everyone could see that Daeron would love and protect them with everything he had.

Lady Rhian of Dale was dressed in their favorite color, designed and made by Feren’s wife, Glélindë, and it was _perfect._ It was done in Elven-fashion, in deference to her husband-to-be, and was made with yards of sheer, lavender chiffon floating over dark purple silk, and her bodice was embroidered with golden swirls accented with thousands of tiny jewels and pearls.  Her tight purple sleeves were long, tapering to graceful points on the back of her hands, adorned with sparkling accents, and over them were long, sheer trumpet sleeves that reached to the floor. 

The top portion of her thick curly hair was swept up, and held in place by Marchwarden Haldir’s gift: two golden combs adorned with gemstones and diamonds, and there were murmurs of how lovely they were.  Small curly tendrils framed her face, while the rest cascaded to her waist.  But it was her face that was the loveliest of all, for her green eyes were shining, her cheeks were glowing, and her smile was sure and full of love.

She was absolutely breathtaking.   So much so, that Tur glanced over at his cousin and nudged him.  _“Thuial,_ _Gwador_ ,” he whispered, and was relieved to see Daeron inhale. 

She reached the Kings, then Ben handed Darryn to Hannah.  Then he turned, and kissed his daughter.  “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Da,” she sniffed.

He shook hands with Daeron, and placed her hand in his.  “Look after my girl, yeah?” his voice was rough. “Look after both of them.”

“You have my word, My Lord.” Daeron said, sincerely, then looked into his bride’s eyes.  “ _Hind Calen_ , he breathed, “you are so beautiful.”

Ben cleared his throat, stepped back, and the ceremony began. 

After Bard and Thranduil said a few words in their native languages, Idril brought forth the ring for Daeron’s bride: a plain gold band.  He kissed it, then placed it on her finger, and he repeated the vows the Kings recited: first in Westron and the traditional Elven vows in Sindarin.  Then Hannah stepped forward and handed Rhian an identical ring, and she did the same.

“At this time, the groom has asked to present his wedding gift to the bride.” The King of Dale nodded to Turamarth, who handed him a diamond ring surrounded by amethysts, made to look like a small flower.

She gasped when he placed it on her finger next to her wedding band.  “Oh!  It’s beautiful!”

 He grinned. “It matches your dress, I see.”

Thranduil smiled, and said, “It is custom among our people for the mother of the bride to present the groom with a gift, but today she will help Darryn present a special gift for his new _Adar.”_ The Elvenking nodded.  “Lady Hannah?” 

The woman smiled, placed a small pouch in the little boy’s hand, and carried him over to the bride and groom. 

“Go on, sweetie,” she urged.  “Do you remember what we practiced?”

“Here _Ada_!” Darryn grinned, and said loudly.

“Thank you, _Ion nîn_.” Daeron’s voice broke, as he called the boy “son,” for the first time.  He took it from the child, drew open the strings and when he took out his gift, he couldn’t talk at all.  It was a golden cloak pin, bearing his and Rhian’s monogram, and large Amethyst.

Daeron managed a misty smile at his mother-in-law, then held his new son, while his mother-in-law fastened his pin for him.   “I love you very much, Darryn.”  The Elf kissed the boy’s hair.

“Lalu, _Ada!”_ The baby grinned, gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Hannah kissed him too, wiped her eyes and took him back to stand beside the Princesses.

The fathers of the bride and groom presented their silk cords and bound the couple’s hands together, then Ben and Adamar placed their hands on top as their blessing.  The Kings’ right hands were placed  on all of them, then everyone bowed their heads as Bard offered prayers to the Valar, and lastly, the Elvenking invoked the sacred name of Eru Ilúvatar to finalize this union.

Then the harps began to play, and Turamarth looked on with bittersweet joy, his cousin and best friend kissed his wife for the first time.

 

The Wedding Feast was held in the Great Hall, of course, and Cook and his staff had outdone themselves.  There was plenty of music, from the soft and soothing Elven harps to the fiddles and drums of the Dwarves, and the brass instruments of the musicians of Dale.  The party spilled out into the courtyard, and many were dancing out there in the cool spring sun.

Turamarth was sitting at a table with Ivran, as they watched Ruvyn and Nualë enjoy a dance.  “You will be next, _Mellon_ _nîn_.” He said to his friend. 

It was true. Lieutenant Ivran and his family was slated to leave with the visiting Wardens to marry Cwën, an Archer from the exchange program, and would be bringing her back to Dale to live.  Ruvyn would go as his groomsman.

“I look forward to it; I have missed Cwën very much.”  The Guard looked at Tur with some concern.  “Good things are happening, _Mellon_ , but with the sweet comes the bitter.”

“That is often the way of things.” Turamarth shrugged, glanced over to where their parents were seated.  “We are happy that Daeron has found his One, and look forward to many years in their company,” he sighed.  “But when we sail, he will not join us, and I fear our parents will feel great pain at our parting.”

“I know,” Ivran said.  “But they will both be blessed with a long life, and as with our friendships with Men, we must appreciate every day.”

“You are right.” Turamarth sat up straighter, and collected himself.  “Now is not the time to think of such things.”  Then he saw the group of Galadhrim laughing with Daeron, Elion, and his betrothed, Airen.  “Who is that?”

“Which one?”

“The blonde one.”

 _“Which_  blonde one?”

“I mean the Elleth standing next to the Marchwarden?”

Ivran turned his head to see where Tur was pointing.  “I believe that is the sister of one of Daeron’s colleagues; I cannot remember her name.” He turned back and raised his eyebrows with a smirk.  “She _is_  beautiful, is she not?”

“Oh? I had not really noticed.” Tur averted his eyes.  

In truth, the Guardian _had_ noticed her the other night at the Inn, before Tauriel came to pick her up, and during the wedding, his eyes wandered in her direction a few times.  But he had been too busy with other matters to give her much thought.  Or so he told himself.

“Why do you ask?” Ivran’s mouth curved into a smile.

Tur shrugged noncommittally.  “I was just curious.  She is probably with Haldir anyway.”  Then he hid his expression in his glass of wine.

“There is only one way to find out her name.” Ivran stood.  “Come along, Tur; you have never been shy a day in your life, and you are not about to start now.”  He grabbed Tur’s arm dragged him over to the small group. 

 _“Suil, mellyn!”_ He greeted them with a grin. “I am sorry we have not had the chance to be formally introduced, but there has been so much activity since your arrival.”  Ivran smiled.  “Turamarth and I have met Haldir, but I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting the rest of your party?”

 _“Mê le 'ovannen,_ _Mellon_ _Ivran.”_ The Marchwarden saluted the Guardians. “Allow me to introduce my brother and second-in-command, Orophin” Haldir indicated a black-haired Elf. “This is Penlod, a Healer from Mithlond, currently serving under the Lord and Lady.”

“ _Ni veren an le ngovaned,”_  Ivran said, as he and Tur gave them a formal salute.

Daeron smiled, “And this is Orlin, another colleague I had the pleasure of working with, and his lovely sister, Evranin.” 

They greeted the two with the same politeness, and when she offered her hand for Turamarth to kiss, he looked into her deep brown eyes, touched her hand…

…and felt like he’d been kicked in the chest.

 

***************

 

“Did you see what happened when they met?” Ivran grinned at the groom, as they watched Tur and Evranin dancing and talking together.  “I think he was hit by the _Ehtë Raumo,_ would you not agree?”

“Perhaps…” Daeron’s eyes narrowed.  “Ivran?  Was Tur scheduled to come with you to Lothlórien for the wedding?”

“I do not believe so…”  A slow grin appeared on the Guard’s face.  “Then again, should not King Thranduil make sure our guests and my family are well-protected?”

 The groom grinned.  “I admire your diligence, Ivran; one can never be too cautious.” Daeron set down his drink.  “Please excuse me,”  and went speak to his King.

 

Once that was settled, the Guard captured his new wife from her group of friends, and took her out on the dance floor for a slow waltz. 

“Hello, my wife.” He grinned down at her, and held their joined hands over his heart.

 _“Suil,_ _Hervenn nîn_.”  She grinned up a him, then laid her head on his chest.

He kissed her hair, and leaned his chin on her head and closed his eyes as they danced.

“Are you happy?” She asked him.

“Completely.” He answered, and he meant it. 

 

Soon, the evening was upon them, it was time for the bride and groom to leave for their honeymoon.

“It’s a popular place,” Bard grinned, as he handed over the keys to their Hunting Lodge.  “It’s yours for an entire week, and we don’t want to see your faces before then!”

The couple hugged their parents and Turamarth, and kissed little Darryn repeatedly, until Ben and Hannah took the baby from his mother, “He’ll be fine; go enjoy yourselves, and let his Granny and Grandad spoil him, yeah?”

 

Two horses were saddled and ready, but only one was ridden to the Lodge.  Daeron told _Aegis_  where to go, and the other horse followed, as he held his wife in his lap and kissed her all the way there.

Rhian giggled, as he carried her across the threshold, then put her down so she could look around. 

“Oh…” She said.  “What a cute little place!” 

There was a fire, a cupboard laden with food, and plenty of linens and towels.  Candles had been lit in their wall sconces, and the bed was freshly-made with vases full of flowers on almost every surface.  She walked to the center of the room and twirled around, with her arms open wide. Daeron was mesmerized as he took in the sight of the layers of her dress swirling and floating around her, then slowly settle down into graceful folds.

“I love it!”  She said as she looked around, and he saw her face shine.

Daeron felt joy, but it was mixed with apprehension, as well; the last time Rhian had been with a man, it had been brutal and soul-scarring.  As much as his body ached for her, but he had to make sure she felt safe.

“Rhian,” He came up to her and took her hands.  “I love you.” He held her gaze then slowly lowered his lips to hers.  She tasted of wine, fruit and sweetness from the frosting of their cake.  “I want you to know, _Hind Calen_ , we will not do anything you are not comfortable with.  I want our first time to be beautiful, so I will not rush you, all right?”

She looked into his eyes.  “Do you want me?”

“More than I have wanted anything in my life, but it must feel right for _both_ of us, not just me.  An Elven joining is something very special, _Meleth nîn_.” He brushed the curls away from her face.  “When it is right, it is magical, and words cannot describe it.  I want you to feel that, Rhian, and I will wait for however long that takes, I promise.” He kissed her brow.  “I am happy to be here with you, to hold you and know that you are mine.”

“Things will be different for both of us, I know that.” She considered.

He brought her hands to his lips.  “Both of our lives will change, and we cannot go back, this is true.  But I knew I wanted this before I even came back to Dale.  I want _you,_ Rhian, but only when you are ready.”

She turned away from him and walked over to the table and stood still.  Despite his words, Daeron’s heart sank.  He was trying to be brave; he truly was…  Then he noticed her slowly reach up and remove Haldir’s combs, and gracefully shake out her hair… 

_Oh..._

She shook her hair again, then slowly undid the buttons on her right wrist.  With a sidelong glance, she undid the left and now they were hanging loosely off of her forearms, as she arched her back and ran her fingers through her hair with a sigh.

 _Oh_...

She looked over her shoulder with a sultry smile.  “These buttons in the back aren’t going to undo themselves, you know.”  She lifted up the heavy curtains of her hair and waited. “ _Natho nin?”_

 _“Elo…”_ he breathed. 

It took all his strength not to run to the other side of the room.  He quickly removed his breastplate and it clanged to the floor.  He licked his lips and slowly walked toward her, removing pieces of armor along the way, and tossing it.  By the time he was right behind her, Daeron was down to his tunic and leggings.  He was also barefoot, with no memory of how he got that way.

His hands shook as he reached toward the back of her gown, and undid the first button, then the second, and the third—

“ _Ai!_ How many of these things are there?” he growled in frustration.  “It is as if they are fastened with a magic spell!”  He stopped and blinked.  “Are they?”

Rhian giggled.  “No.  You’re just fumbling because you’re eager. Slow down.” She said, in that same sultry tone, he was beginning to appreciate.

He blew out a breath and took his time.  On all _forty_ - _five_ buttons.  “Are all wedding gowns like this, or did you have this made just to tease me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She looked back at him and smiled wickedly, then slowly turned to face him, as the gown slipped off her shoulders and fell to the floor.  Underneath, she had been wearing a filmy white sheath that left _nothing_ to the imagination.  And she wasn’t wearing _anything_ underneath it. 

The blood pounded in his ears, then moved down between his legs, and he felt himself twitch against the confines of his leggings. 

_Oh..._

_“Elo…”_ he said again.  “You look…” 

“So, you like it, then?” She asked in mock-innocence.

He couldn’t talk, just opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

She kicked off her shoes, then went to him, and held his eyes and she slowly undid the lacings of his tunic and pulled it over his head.  He gasped when she touched his chest, and ran her fingers lightly over the muscular plains of his stomach. 

“You are so beautiful..,” Rhian whispered, then teased one of his nipples, which made him squeak and his cock twitched hard again.

“Sensitive, too.”  She reached toward him and took one in her mouth.

“ _A!”_ he groaned loudly.  “You are making it difficult for me to restrain myself, _Hind Calen_ ,” he warned.

“Good.”  She grinned up at him, and she undid the lacings of his leggings, plunged her hand inside, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

He growled out a laugh.  “You are such a tease, woman.” Then he captured her mouth in a hard kiss.  “Shall we take this to the bed?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He swept her up in his arms, and carried her over and put her down.  He crawled in beside her and looked down at her beautiful face, and all that glorious hair fanning out over the pillow.  “I thought you looked beautiful when you were coming to me at our wedding, but now you take my breath away.  I do not ever want to forget this moment.” He swallowed, when he saw the look of love in her eyes, as she cupped his cheek.

“We won’t.” She promised him.  “I won’t forget anything about this night, love.  Please; I want to be with you.”  She aggressively grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down to kiss her mouth, which opened to receive anything he wanted to give.  He buried his hands in her hair and deepened the kiss with a low groan, until he couldn’t stand it anymore and had to pull back.

“Rhian,” he panted.  “Tell me you want to be one with me.  Tell me, please.”

“I want to join my body, and my soul with you, Daeron.  I want to feel you inside me.” She looked deep into his eyes.  “I want you.  I want you...”

He bent down and pulled down one of the thin straps to nightgown to reveal her full breast and reveled in the dark, pert nipple.  He cupped its softness, then took the rose-colored bud in his mouth and enjoyed her moan and she held his head and begged him not to stop.   

“Oh, stars…” she gasped.  “Oh, that’s so good…” she began to writhe with desire which Daeron enjoyed thoroughly.  

Then he released her and carefully removed the gown altogether, and drank in the sight of his wife’s naked body: the soft curves of her breasts, the narrowing of her waist, the flare of her hips, and the mound of dark hair at the apex of her thighs.  In wonder, he reached down to run his hands through the thick curls, and realized they were moist.  She _truly_ wanted him.

He bent down to—

“Oh, no you don’t.” she said in a teasing tone.  “Fair’s fair.  I want to see you.”

“As my lady wishes,” he grinned and quickly managed to remove the rest of his clothing, and they lay on their sides facing each other.

“You have no hair,” she whispered, a bit surprised.

“And you have hair.” He whispered back.  “I like it very much.”

“And I like it…  you are…Oh, gods, you’re huge...” she reached out and took his hard length in her hand, and Daeron couldn’t see after that.

After a moment, he had to stop her.   “We will explore ways to pleasure each other, _Hind Calen_ , and very soon.  But this first joining, is a true Elven marriage, and we must do it properly, or…”

“Or what?”

He teased her with a grin.  “You shall see.  Did not Elénaril tell you what happens?”

“She said I had to find out for myself.”

Daeron chuckled.  “She wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Aye.” she giggled.  “So, I will like it?”

“You,” he kissed her between each word, “Will. Like. It. Very. Much.”

“What are you waiting for, husband?” She shifted on to her back, and reached for him.

He leaned down, and took her nipple in his mouth again, and his other hand moved slowly down toward the nest of dark curls and began to tease the small, but sensitive bud with small circles; not too hard, just enough to have her writhing and moaning and soaking wet.

“Oh, gods, Daeron, if you don’t take me now, I’ll…” she groaned out the rest wordlessly, but he got the idea.

He crawled on top of her, as she widened her legs, then pushed his hand away so she could touch him again, and pumped her hand up and down rapidly. 

 _“Ai, ma!  Rhian!”_ he gasped.

“Like I said,” she panted.  “Fair’s fair.”

She guided the tip of his hard, throbbing cock into her entrance then grabbed his hips.  Still he was determined to make this moment last, and went slowly, as he watched her face.

“You must keep your eyes on mine, _Meleth nîn_.  Keep them open, and watch me, and you will see what a true Elven joining is like.” Then he moaned as he entered her tight heat. 

She panted hard, but nodded, “I can’t believe how good you feel…”

 _“A…. Ae!  Mae ad limp mi gin…”_ He panted as he continued to slowly roll his hips towards her.  _“Ai, ma…. Ma…”_

When he seated himself fully inside of her he looked down at her with a loving smile.  “We are one, Meleth.”

“Yes, we are,” she rolled her hips toward him, and finally, he allowed himself to move inside of her, and _oh._   

_Oh..._

Never in his life had he done anything like this, and it was so much better than he imagined!  He did not know a body could feel this much, and his _fëa_ began to soar.

He never stopped looking into her green eyes.  “I love you, Rhian Adamarion.  I love you so much.” And his eyes filled with tears. 

“I love you, Daeron.  Oh gods, yes!” she cried out when he thrust in harder.  “Oh, Valar!  Oh, it’s so, so good!”

He went faster, harder, as he began to feel the tremors down his spine, and the muscles around his groin tense and he arched into her as hard as he could.  He heard Rhian’s gasp of surprise and wonder when he felt the light inside of him begin to glow.  Then it was between them, then it entered her, enveloping them both. 

They were both crying.   Tears flowed from Rhian’s eyes that were nearly black with desire, and his own fell freely onto her face.

“I can see you…” she rasped, and her moans became more urgent.  “Oh, my… Daeron, I… oh gods!  I can see… I see you…” 

And he could see her, _all of her._   In this moment, Daeron understood what making love really was; he saw everything about his beautiful Rhian: her heart, her soul her past and future and hopes and wishes and dreams.  He saw it all…

But it was more than that. 

He saw it, and _h_ e _knew_ it. 

Then he gasped in surprise, and his hips stuttered, and he lost his rhythm for a moment.

Because Daeron understood: he had known this _fëa_ before, and as Rhian was stared up at him full of love and wonder and astonishment, and he could tell her _fëa_ knew him, too. “Daeron?  Is it you?  I... It’s you!”

 Then he realized who Rhian really was, and remembered Lady Galadriel’s words:  _“That which you seek, seeks you also.”_

“Oh, Daeron!” Rhian panted, “I’m gonna come... I’m gonna come... Oh, I can’t believe it...” Her fingers dug into his back. “Oh, Stars... _Daeron!”_

 _“A!  Ma!  Ma, Hind Calen!”_ He began to thrust harder into her and babbled in Sindarin, _“Gi melin, Rhian!  Gi melin! A, meleth n_ _î_ _n; telin…”_

They both looked into each other’s eyes and cried out when she began to pulse around him.  He moaned as he felt the strength of her climax, and marveled at how strong and powerful it was.  Just as it began to subside, it started again, when Daeron came, spilling his seed inside of her.

At last, they both began to calm, and he thrust through their aftershocks, to their mutual delight, but when they finally became still, he buried his face in his wife’s shoulder and sobbed with a joy he’d never thought possible, and she held him tight, kissed his hair over and over, and told him how much she loved him.

He need never wonder again what happened to his beloved Sellwen, because Eru Ilúvatar, the Creator and Father of all, had sent her back to him.  His Rhian’s _f_ _ë_ _a_ _was_ Sellwen.  And Sellwen had always been Rhian.  And she’d always been mean for _him._

He also knew, in that moment, that he would never lose any of the special gifts that Eru and the Valar had bestowed upon him.  There would be no sacrifice for Rhian’s sake; Eru had given her back to him as a _reward._

And with this realization, he was overcome all over again he held her tight and cried even harder, and she wrapped her arms and legs even tighter, because, athough she couldn’t put it into words, something in Rhian instinctively _knew_ and understood, and it was a miraculous thing.

When Daeron could breathe more normally, Rhian’s eyes searched his.  “I didn’t know it could be like that.  I…felt you, when you…”

“Climaxed?”

She nodded.  “It was incredible!”

“And I could feel you, as well.” He sniffed and smiled.  “That will always be so, but our first time, when our _fëas_ became one, is a true gift.”

“I can’t believe it,” she breathed a sigh, and wiped away his tears. “You… I mean, when we were… Galadriel said something about me looking for you, and I didn’t know what she meant, but now…”. She put her hand over his heart.  “It’s like I was coming back to you.  It’s... you.  I know it.”

He placed his hand over her heart in wonder.  “It is you…. You have always been my One…”

“We found each other.  I don’t understand it, but I know it’s true…”

Daeron’s eyes filled with tears, took her in his arms, and told her everything.

“Really?” Her eyes widened.  “That’s amazing!  I mean, you told me about her a while ago, but to think…. I can hardly believe it!” She laughed. “That explains it, then.”

“Explains what, _Hind Calen?”_

“When we first met, I…was terrified, but there was something about you…. And when you kept coming around, you were so familiar, like you’d always been my friend.  I’d didn’t know what to think.”

Daeron turned and held her face in his hands.  “This is wondrous news, and a part of me that has always grieved has been healed, but I do not wish to see you as anyone else but my Rhian, do you understand?  I want you to know that I will always love you for _yourself_.”

She smiled and stroked his hair away from his head.  “I do.  I love you, my husband.”

“And I love you, my wife.” He kissed her again and again, as he did throughout that entire, wonderful week together.  They learned about each other, and explored ways to please each other, and shared their thoughts and hopes for their lives.

And to Daeron’s great delight, Rhian learned that Aunt Indis was right about an Elf’s ears.

 

 

 

** ELVEN TRANSLATIONS: **

_A! I naneth gîn thia sui orch!_ – Hey! Your mother looks like an Orc!

 _A!  Ma!  Ma, Hind Calen!_ – Oh!  Yes!  Yes, Green eyes!

 _Adar-nauth_ -Father of the heart

 _A…. Ae!  Mae ad limp mi gin…_ \- Ah…Oh! It’s so soft and wet inside you!

 _Ai puith!_   - Oh, fuck!

 _Ci vellon nîn n'uir,_ _Gwador_ – Forever you are my friend, my sworn-brother.

 _Ehtë Raumo_ – (Q.) “Lightning Bolt”  (lit. “Storm Spear”) Sometimes, when an Elf first encounters his or her bond-mate, they can feel a powerful, emotional response, like lightning. 

 _Elo…_ \- Wow…

 _Gi melin, Rhian!  Gi melin! A, meleth n_ _î_ _n; telin…_ – I love you, Rhian!  I love you!  Oh, my love; I am coming…

 _Mê le 'ovannen,_ _Ivran mellon_ – Well met, friend Ivran

 _Mellon_ _nîn –_ My friend

 _Natho nin? –_ Help me?

 _Ni veren an le ngovaned._ – I am happy to meet you.

 _Pen-channas_ – Idiot

 _Penig ind?_ – Are you insane?

 _Suil, mellyn!_ – Hello, friends! 

 _Thuial,_ _Gwador_ – Breathe, sworn-brother

 _Torog! –_ Troll!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to take this time to thank everyone who left a nice comment on this story: 
> 
> Leemitage (my “Superfan,” who has been with me from the beginning, and I’m honored to call her my friend);  
> AlfredFreedomJones,  
> Andy_Bee (for the nice “shout out”);  
> Constantine_You_Owe_Me,  
> DarkenedProngs,  
> Golden,  
> hanany,  
> hashimada,  
> iiii,  
> kyuumihaira,  
> littbrat,  
> Morvidra,  
> Pirate Lawrence,  
> Sebby1027,  
> The_Mighty_Bow,  
> weathereyehorizon,  
> whyamblackphoenix,  
> willperform4food,  
> Winter_Genisis, and last, but not least,  
> Yoshiaki, 
> 
> And, of course, my friend, CreepyScientist made me some wonderful illustrations which I hope you love as much as I do!  Be sure to check out her wonderful art on tumblr!
> 
> Thanks to everyone below who was kind enough to leave me kudos, and for ALL of the other lovely readers to have been silently keeping up with my "Two Thrones Universe!"
> 
> I began to write less than two years ago - "What Makes a King" was my first effort ever, for ANYTHING, really! I never expected such a huge response, but I thank you and the heavens above for every single hit on my series!!
> 
> ❤❤❤❤❤❤


	56. Bonus Epilogue!!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise!!! Fooled you, didn’t I?  
> 
> Here is a Holiday gift, as a thanks to my wonderful readers for sticking with me!
> 
> In which we jump ahead a teensy bit, to see our newlyweds add an addition to the family!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've also posted the first chapter of "Legolas, Ion nîn," so be sure to swing over and check it out!

 

“The two most important days in your life are the day you are born, and the day you find out why.”

** ― Mark Twain **

 

 

**_Three years after Daeron’s and Rhian’s wedding…_ **

“How are you doing up there, Rhian?” Hannah asked, as she and Sigrid helped make some final preparations.  “Daeron!  We agreed, remember? I’ll handle this end, and you handle _that_ end!  Now get up there and be with your wife!”

“But—“

“You’re a husband today, not a Healer.” she waved her hands.  “Shoo, I say! Go on!”

Rhian raised herself up on her elbows.  “Daeron Adamarion,” she panted, “if you don’t get your arse up here, you’ll never lay a finger on me again, do hear me?  AHHH!” she cried as another contraction hit.

Instantly the Elf was at her side and was stroking her brow.  “Just breathe, _Hind Calen_ …”

She groaned, then gave him a filthy look.  “ _Don’t touch me!_ Did I _say_ you could touch me?”

He quickly took his hand away, and looked at Hannah.

She shrugged. “You’ve seen it a thousand times.”

“But that was different…” he stopped talking when Rhian let out another howl and blindly grasped for him. 

“Daeron! Help me!  Why aren’t you…”. She yowled, grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him towards her with incredible strength, but unfortunately she caught one of his nipples in the process.

 _“NÊG!”_ He howled in pain. _“I naegra nin!”_

“You wanna switch places with me?” Rhian snapped. “Oh, shit, Shit. Shit. SHIT, _THAT HURTS!_ I _SAID,_ don’t _TOUCH_ me!”  She yelled, when Daeron grabbed her fingers and tried to loosen her grip.

“But _Meleth nîn_ …” he helped again. “You are pinch— _Ah_ , **_nêg!”_** He gritted his teeth as her fingers curled and pulled again.

“Don’t you ‘ _Meleth nîn_ ’  me!  Why am I even awake?  You could’ve put me to sleep, like you did with Darryn, or at least made it so I couldn’t feel all this!”

“But you told me not to!  You made me promise!” He whined, and managed to free himself but dropped her hand quickly. “You told me—“

“Why did you listen to me!”  she panted.  “You’re the Healer, not me! _OhHolyMotherFuckingGods!”_ she moaned.

“Rhian you said,” he reminded her in a soothing tone, “no matter how much you were going to beg—"

_“FUCK WHAT I SAID!”_

“..and you made me _promise_ not to do it, no matter how much you yelled or cursed, or—”

“Even if he could right now, it’s too late.” Hannah checked her.  “Okay, lovey, it’s time for us to push.  Come on; let’s bring your new baby into the world!”

Sigrid took her place on the other side of Rhian, and Daeron supported her back and together they began.

“Oh, gods…” she laid back down on the pillows between contractions, then looked at him.  “Tell me the truth: did you?”

Daeron eyed her warily, and pretended not to understand.  “Did I what, _Meleth nîn_?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.  Did you look?”

“I…”

“Daeron?” she scowled.  “Oh. My. Stars.  You _did,_ didn’t you?”

“Well…  I tried not to, really I did, but—”

“Daeron!  You promised!  When I got pregnant, you and I agreed that we would wait, and be surprised!  We weren’t going to find out if it was a boy or a girl until the baby was born!”

“I am sorry, _Hind Calen_.  You were sleeping so soundly one night, and I just—“

“You _rat!_   How long have you known?”

His head sunk into his shoulders.  “Eight months?”

“You’ve known for eight months?   _EIGHT MONTHS?_ And you never said a word?  _How could you?”_

“I just wanted to make sure all was well…”

“So,” she rasped, “let me see if I understand this.  You _listen_ to me when I make a _stupid_ decision and tell you I want to feel the ‘joys of childbirth?’”

“But you _said_ you—”

“And you _don’t_ listen when _we agree_ to be surprised when the baby is born?  A decision which involves no pain at all?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“You bastard!  You _sneak!_  You’ve known all this time whether Darryn is getting a brother or a sister and you didn’t tell me?  Why didn’t you wait?”

Daeron finally lost his temper.  “Because it is what I do, Rhian!” he shouted.  “I thought I could wait, but _this is what I do!  I am **going** to make sure our baby is healthy and positioned correctly!” _ he wrung his hands, just as another contraction hit, and they were back in business.

“OooohhhhhhYouBastardYouLookedWhenYouSaidYouWouldntYouBastardYouBastardYOUBASTARDYOUBASTAAAAAAAARD!!” and she sunk back on the pillows, red-faced and panting. 

 _“Rhian!”_ Daeron hissed, “I really must protest! My _parents_ are out there, and you just called me a bas—“

“Don’t yell at me!” She screwed up her face and began to cry.  “I’m trying t-to have your baby, and y-you’re yelling at m-m-m-me!” She sobbed. “I w-wanted our baby to meet us at the same time and now it loves you and doesn’t even know m-me at all!” She wailed. 

Instantly, the Elf felt terrible. “I am so sorry, _Meleth nîn._ I truly did not mean to hurt your feelings, but I had to make sure all was well...”

“Well, you did!” She bawled. “What if my b-baby likes you m-more than me? Of course our baby is going to love you more!  I just—“

“Oh, no, no, _Hind Calen!”_  He took her hand and stroked her hair. “Our baby loves us both, and you know I love you more than—“

“OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHYourTouchingMe!” She growled and geared up again, “AAAAAHHHWhyAreYouTouchingMeOhMyStarsThisBabyIsGonnaBeStuckInMeForeverrrrrrrr—“  

“Come on, sweetheart,” Hannah urged, “Big push now!”

“WhatTheBloodyFuckDoYouThinkImDoing!” Rhian groaned, and took another breath. “GaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” 

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Sigrid sponged her face. “You’re doing really good.”

“You promise?” Rhian’s eyes were closed as she collapsed on the pillow.

Another contraction.  More pushing.  “GetItOutGetItOutGetItOutOfMeeeeeEEEEEEEEE!”

“I can see the head!” Hannah cried with a smile.

“You can?” Daeron rushed down to the business end.  “Oh… there it is…”

“Daeron!” Rhian flailed out her arm. “Where are you?  Don’t leave me!”

“Sorry.” He quickly grabbed her again and helped her sit up. “there is a great deal of curly hair…”

“Oh,” she looked at him in wonder as she blew out short breaths.  “Really?”

“She has my hair color _,_ _Hind Calen_.” He grinned.  “She is going to have your curls and my auburn hair!”

 _“She?_  Oh, it’s a little girl?  Oh, I love you!” she cried.  “We’re having a little girl!”  Rhian took a deep breath, “Oh, here comes another one…  DaeronAdamarionIamNeverDoingThisAgainAsLongAsILiveDontYouEvenThinkOfLayingAFingerOnMeAgainYouFilthyBastardOhFuckYouAreSleepingInTheSpareRoomForTheRestOfYouFilthyMiserableLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!”

“Almost there, Rhian!” Hannah encouraged, after the contraction was over.  "You're doing just fine, pet."

“It's really a little girl?” Panted Rhian.  "I'm sorry I yelled, babe; I love you so much,  I shouldn’t have told you not to look...”

“I know, _Hind Calen_.  Our baby is a little girl and she will be as beautiful as her mother.” He kissed her temple.  “I love you so much!”

“Oh, Daeron, she sobbed.  “I love you, too—OHYouSonofaBitchHowCouldYouDoThistoMe!” she paused to take another breath,  “ICantBelieveHowMuchThisHurtsImGoingToCutYourBallsOff!”

"Keep going," Hannah said, cheerfully.  "Come on, sweetie - big push for me!"

“OhshitISwearIllCutYourCockOffAndCookItAndFeedItToTheCatIfYouEverComeNearMeAgaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIN!”

Daeron winced and instinctively tucked his pelvis in.

“The head’s out!  And would you look at all this beautiful hair!”

He was going to go look, but she grabbed his arm, “Don’t leave me…” she sobbed.  “You can’t leave me.  I’m so sorry I yelled, and I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean it and I love you so much and I’m sorry.”

He kissed her forehead.  “I know. I love you, too.” Daeron smiled at just as another contraction hit.

“That’s it!” Hannah cried with excitement. “One more push and my new granddaughter will be here.  Come on; here she comes!”

“OhFuckilyFuckityFuckFuckFUCKIHateYourRottenStinkingGutsAndIllCutYourThroatInYourSLEEEEEEEEEP!”

“Ooooh!” Hannah said proudly.  “My lands!  I've heard my share of cursing in this business, but you’re the best I’ve ever come across!”

Despite himself, Daeron grinned,  “She is good, is she not? I am impressed!”

"Here it comes, Rhian!  One more big push for me, and you'll have a daughter!  Come in; take a nice deep breath, and..."

Daeron squeezed her hand, as he supported her shoulders.  "Push, _Meleth..."_

“OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHYouFuckingCocksuckingWormHowWouldYouFeelTryingToPushOutSomethingTheSizeOfAHorseThroughYour—“

 “Annnd…  Here she is!”

The room was filled with the lusty cries of the furious little girl, who was laid on Rhian’s chest with several blankets, and Sigrid started to rub her down briskly.

“Oh…” Rhian sobbed.  “Oh… she is so beautiful…  I really wanted a girl…”  she quickly looked up at her husband.  “I would’ve been happy with a boy, but I really wanted a girl…” she stroked the baby’s head and marveled at her.  “Oh, look, Daeron; she’s got your ears!” She cried with joy. “Oh, she’s so beautiful!” Her sobs turned to hiccups of joy and exhaustion as she ran her fingers through the baby’s auburn curls.

The Elf stared at this child, speechless. 

This was really his child. 

 _His_ little girl. 

His and Rhian’s…

“Hey, Daeron?” Through the fog, he heard Hannah’s concerned voice, “Are you all right?  You look a little—Oh, my lands; I should have known…  ERMON!  _GET IN HERE!”_

 

Someone was slapping his face.  Laughing.  There was laughter.

“Daeron?” He felt cold wetness on his face, and something strong was passed under his nose. 

“Ugh,” he jerked his head, then squinted his eyes open, and saw Ermon grinning.  “What happened?”

“Two things, actually,” the Chief Healer laughed.  _“You_ fainted, and _I_ won a great deal of money from Lord Percy’s betting pool.”

“Wh…” he looked around to see Sigrid and Hannah busy finishing up.  Someone had put him on a chair, and to his right, Rhian was in the bed, holding their daughter.  “Oh, no…  I am sorry, _Hind Calen.._.” He started to get up, but Ermon pushed him back down.

“No.  Stay there for a few minutes.” He handed Daeron some water.  “Drink that.  I am going to examine your daughter.”  The Healer took the child over to a side table and unwound her blankets.  “She looks perfectly healthy, _Mellyn_ _nîn_ ; I see nothing at all amiss.   I have never personally encountered a _Peredhel_ , though I have studied Lord Elrond’s notes.  Still, I want you to bring her  to see me on a regular basis to record her progress.”  He wrapped up the crying child and took her back over to her father and placed the bundle in his arms. “Congratulations, Daeron and Rhian,” he smiled, “she is truly lovely.”

Daeron looked down in wonder.  His daughter – _their_ daughter blinked up at him with eyes the same deep green as her mother.  _“Suil,_ _Iellig_ …” he said softly, as his vision swam.  “It is true she has your eyes…”

Rhian scooted over on the bed, and winced a bit.  “Come up here.” 

Daeron felt steadier, so he joined his wife on the bed, together they marveled over their child.  “We have a daughter, _Hind Calen_.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder.  You have two _Hind Calen_ now,” she smiled up at him.  “I love you.”

He kissed her softly.  “I love you, too.  Now I have three treasures, instead of two.  I am the richest Elf on Middle Earth.”

She leaned her head against him, and sighed.  “Was I awful?”

“Yes.” He chuckled.  “But your choice of words was impressive.” He rubbed his chest. “And I need to check to make sure you did not rip my nipple off.”

“Oh, no!” she gasped. “I’m sorry.” She sighed.  “I didn’t mean it.  I don’t remember that.”

“You are fortunate.” He rolled his eyes. “So I will not be sleeping in the spare room, from now on?”

“No, silly.” She giggled. “You can sleep with me, where you belong.”

 “Still,” he smirked, “I will be sleeping with one eye open -  I would rather not wake up to find my genitals missing.”

“No!  I didn’t!”

“Oh, yes you did." he smirked.  "And furthermore, next time, no matter how much you ask ahead of time, I am not allowing you to experience this 'joy of childbirth' like that again."

"You won't get any argument from me," she sighed.  "What was I thinking?"

Hannah had finished up, and was wiping her hands, then wiggled her fingers.  “Now, come on, hand her over; it’s Granny’s turn.” 

When Rhian gave her the child, she smiled.  “Well, here you are… and aren’t you a little beauty!”

“I am sorry you were angry, _Meleth nîn,_ but I only ‘looked’ to make sure she was well.” He kissed her. “I need to protect my child, and my wife.  Do you understand?”

“I know.  And I’m glad you did.  I was just being silly and insecure and…”

“Pregnant,” Hannah interjected.  “You were being pregnant. Daeron did the right thing, pet, and he did it with my blessing.  He’ll do it again next time, whether you like it or not.”  She swayed the little bundle in her arms.  “Oh, look at our little darling…. Your Da’s going to have to beat the boys off with a stick when you get older.”  She turned back to the couple.  “Have you decided on a name?”

“We couldn’t really decide, so we’re following your advice.”

“Oh, good.  I think it’s always better to wait and see who they look like.” Hannah said, as she handed her back to her father.

Daeron looked into the baby’s green eyes, and thought of Rhian walking down the long aisle on their wedding day, with those same eyes, and her a dress of lavender and purple…

“She looks like an Iris, does she not?”

Then Rhian considered the little face, and smiled.  “It’s perfect!"  She kissed her daughter's auburn hair.  "Hello, Iris."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you like, check out my Two Thrones Board on Pinterest! I’ve reorganized it a bit and added cast members to update the story. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> https://www.pinterest.com/wendyw0051/two-thrones-series-on-ao3/


End file.
